ORATIONS    AND    SPEECHES. 


(~—&C*^ts- 


ORATIONS 


AND 


SPEECHES 


VARIOUS   OCCASIONS. 


VOL.  I. 


TENTH     EDITION. 


BOSTON: 

LITTLE,    BROWN,    AND    COMPANY 
1883. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850, 

BY  CHARLES  C.  LITTLE  AND  JAMES  BHOWN, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


"I 


PREFACE 


TO 


THE   FIRST   EDITION 


THE  following  collection  was  made  at  the  suggestion 
of  the  respectable  association  by  whom  it  is  published.* 
It  was  at  first  intended  that  it  should  consist  of  the 
materials  of  which  this  volume  is  composed,  together 
with  a  selection  of  speeches  in  Congress,  and  articles 
in  the  North  American  Review,  by  the  same  author. 
It  was  found,  on  examination,  that  the  addresses  now 
submitted  to  the  public  would,  of  themselves,  form  a 
volume  of  ordinary  size,  and  sufficient  variety  of 
matter.  The  collection  has,  accordingly,  been  confined 
to  them,  reserving  for  a  future  occasion,  if  deemed 

^  expedient,  the  preparation  of  another  volume,  to  com- 
jjo  prehend  the  speeches,  essays,  and  other  miscellaneous 
compositions  not  contained  in  this. 

V^  The  orations  and  speeches  contained  in  this  volume, 
with  the  exception  of  the  address  delivered  before  the 
Massachusetts  Agricultural  Society,  were  printed  at  the 
time  of  their  delivery ;  but  advantage  has  been  taken 

*   American    Stationers'    Company. 
VOL.  6  (5) 


Vi  PREFACE    TO    THE    FIRST    EDITION. 

of  the  opportunity  afforded  by  this  republication,  to  revise 
and  correct  them,  principally  in  matters  of  style. 

It  will  be  found  that  some  of  the  addresses,  being 
on  the  same  or  similar  occasions  or  subjects,  exhibit  a 
considerable  similarity  in  the  train  of  remark,  and  even 
in  the  illustrations.  This  is  particularly  the  case  with 
the  orations  delivered  at  Concord  and  Lexington,  on  the 
nineteenth  of  April,  1825,  and  1835.  Such  a  similarity 
was  scarcely  to  be  avoided.  The  general  plan  of  the 
two  addresses  is  different,  but  they  necessarily  required 
some  description  of  the  same  memorable  incidents ;  and 
any  attempt  to  avoid  the  repetition  must  have  been  at 
the  sacrifice  of  topics  consecrated  to  the  occasion. 

The  author,  being  desirous,  in  submitting  this  collection 
to  the  public,  to  make  a  contribution  to  the  literature  of 
the  country  which,  however  humble,  might  at  least  possess 
the  negative  merit  of  being  inoffensive,  the  speeches  deliv- 
ered by  him  on  political  occasions  have  been  excluded,  and 
nothing  of  a  party  character  has  been  knowingly  admitted. 

He  is  fully  aware  that,  as  the  addresses  which  make  up 
the  volume  were  in  their  origin  occasional,  the  collection 
of  them  cannot  be  expected  to  form  a  work  of  permanent 
interest  and  importance.  It  would  be  all  he  could  hope, 
that  they  should  be  thought,  at  the  time  of  their  separate 
appearance,  not  to  fall  below  the  line  of  the  indulgence 
usually  extended  to  performances  of  'this  character.  He 
has  been  induced,  more  by  the  encouragement  of  partial 
friends,  than  his  own  judgment  of  their  value,  to  submit 
them  again  to  the  public  in  their  present  form. 

CHARLESTOWN,  Mass,,  July,  1836. 


PREFACE 


TO 


THE   SECOND   EDITION 


THE  first  of  these  volumes  is  a  reimpression  ot  one 
which  was  published  in  1836,  and  which  has  been  for 
several  years  out  of  print.  Its  contents  are  the  same, 
with  the  exception  that  a  short  speech  on  the  Western 
Railroad  has  been  transferred  to  the  second  volume,  for 
the  sake  of  equalizing  the  size  of  the  two.  The  second 
volume  consists  principally  of  addresses  delivered  since 
1836. 

In  revising  the  earlier  compositions  in  this  collection  for 
the  present  edition,  I  have  applied  the  priming-knife  freely 
to  the  style.  This  operation  might  have  been  carried  still 
farther  with  advantage ;  for  I  feel  them  to  be  still  deficient 
in  that  simplicity  which  is  the  first  merit  in  writings  of  this 
class.  When  I  was  at  college,  the  English  authors  most 
read  and  admired,  at  least  by  me,  and  I  believe  generally 
by  my  contemporaries,  were  Johnson,  Gibbon,  and  Burke. 
I  yielded  myself  with  boyish  enthusiasm  to  their  irresisti- 
ble fascination.  But  the  stately  antithesis,  the  unvarying 
magnificence,  and  the  boundless  wealth  of  diction  of  these 

great  masters,  amply  sustained   in  them  by  their  learning. 

(7) 


Vtii  PREFACE    TO    THE    PRESENT    EDITION. 

their  power  of  thought,  and  weight  of  authority,  are  ton 
apt,  on  the  part  of  youthful  imitators,  to  degenerate  into 
ambitious  wordiness. 

Some  indulgence  is  perhaps  due  to  these  volumes  for 
other  reasons.  With  the  exception  of  the  lectures,  the 
addresses  contained  in  them  were  either  written  to  be 
spoken,  or  having  been  spoken  generally  from  heads  pre- 
pared beforehand,  were  afterwards  written  out  from  the 
reporters'  notes.  The  occasions,  without  exception,  were 
of  a  popular  character.  It  would  be  trying  performances 
of  this  kind  by  a  severe  standard,  to  expect  of  them  the 
terseness  and  condensation  which  belong  to  writings  of  a 
more  serious  cast,  prepared  for  the  graver  business  occa- 
sions of  life.  I  hope,  however,  that  those  who  may  take 
the  trouble  to  read  the  two  volumes  through  will  find 
some  adaptation  of  manner  to  the  varying  nature  of  the 
occasion. 

An  objection  has  been  taken  to  some  of  the  earlier 
patriotic  orations  contained  in  this  collection  as  too  strongly 
eulogistic  of  this  country.  On  this  point  I  can  only  plead 
that  every  thing  said  by  me,  to  which  this  objection  may 
be  supposed  to  apply,  has  been  said  in  good  faith.  The 
earlier  orations  were  delivered  not  long  after  my  return 
from  a  residence  of  four  or  five  years  in  Europe,  princi- 
pally on  the  continent.  The  last  country  visited  by  me 
was  Greece,  at  that  time  subject  to  the  Turkish  yoke,  but 
fermenting  with  the  discontents  which  soon  broke  out  in 
revolution.  In  Italy,  France,  and  Germany,  the  restored 
bureaucracy  of  the  old  regime  was  every  where  in  force, 
and  felt  with  great  impatience  in  the  literary  and  social 
circles  in  which  my  acquaintance  principally  lay.  In 


PREFACE    TO    THE    PRESENT    EDITION.  IX 

England,  the  liberal  ideas  and  principles  embodied  in  the 
legislation  of  the  last  twenty-five  years  were  still  matters 
of  doubtful  debate.  There  was,  at  the  same  time,  on  the 
part  of  the  literary  and  political  journals  of  highest  re- 
pute, (not  excepting  those  whose  general  principles,  it 
should  seem,  would  have  dictated  a  different  course,)  a 
tone  of  unfriendliness  and  disparagement  towards  the  United 
States ;  far  less  frequently  manifested,  I  am  happy  to  say, 
at  the  present  day. 

Returning  with  deep  impressions  produced  by  this  state 
of  things,  I  was  charged  for  four  years  with  the  editor- 
ship of  the  North  American  Review.  This  placed  me, 
almost  of  necessity,  in  the  position  of  a  champion,  and  led 
me  to  contemplate  some  national  questions  very  much  in 
a  polemical  point  of  view.  Traces  of  this  may  be  found 
in  some  of  the  addresses  contained  in  the  present  collec- 
tion. In  reference  to  great  principles,  I  do  not  find  that 
the  feelings  under  which  I  wrote,  heightened  as  they  were 
by  the  ardor  of  youth,  led  me  to  maintain  opinions  which, 
after  the  lapse  of  twenty-five  eventful  years,  require  to  be 
qualified.  But  I  am  free  to  confess,  that  there  is  occa- 
sionally an  exaggerated  nationality  in  the  tone  with 
which  principles,  correct  in  themselves,  are  stated,  which 
does  not  now  appear  to  me  in  the  best  taste. 

It  has  also  been  objected  to  the  manner  in  which  some 
topics  in  American  history  are  treated  in  these  addresses, 
that  it  runs  into  overstrained  sentiment.  I  am  aware  that 
there  is  danger  of  falling  into  this  fault  in  orations  for 
the  fourth  of  July  and  other  great  popular  festivals.  But 
it  ought  not  to  be  forgotten  that  a  somewhat  peculiar 
state  of  things  existed  among  us  twenty  or  thirty  years 


X  PREFACE    TO    THE    PRESENT    EDITION. 

ago,  calculated  to  give  the  character  in  question  to  the 
fugitive  literature  of  the  day.  The  great  rapidity  with 
which  the  United  States  had  grown  up  since  the  declara- 
tion of  independence,  had  given  that  kind  of  importance  to 
recent  events,  —  that  hold  upon  the  imagination,  —  which, 
in  a  slower  march  of  things,  can  usually  be  the  result  of 
nothing  but  a  lapse  of  centuries.  There  were  still  linger- 
ing among  us  distinguished  leaders  of  the  revolutionary 
struggle.  Our  heroic  age  was  historical,  was  prolonged 
even  into  the  present  time ;  and  the  present  and  the  his- 
torical consequently  acquired  something  of  the  interest  of 
the  heroic  past.  Amidst  all  the  hard  realities  of  the 
present  day,  we  beheld  some  of  the  bold  barons  of  our 
Runnymede  face  to  face.  This  tended  to  lift  events  from 
the  level  of  dry  matter  of  fact  into  the  region  of  senti- 
ment. Other  circumstances  —  some  of  them  incidents  of 
this  state  of  things  —  exerted  a  powerful  influence  in  the 
same  direction.  Such  were  the  fusion  of  the  old  political 
parties  that  commenced  soon  after  the  peace  of  1815; 
the  expiration,  in  1820,  of  the  second  century  from  the 
landing  at  Plymouth,  and  in  1830,  the  like  event  in  ref- 
erence to  Massachusetts;  —  great  eras  these  for  the  whole 
New  England  race !  —  the  passage  of  several  laws  by  Con- 
gress, pensioning  the  survivors  of  the  revolutionary  army; 
the  visit  of  Lafayette  in  1824;  the  commemoration,  the 
following  year,  of  the  half  century  from  the  breaking  out 
of  the  revolutionary  war;  the  commencement  of  the  Bun- 
ker Hill  Monument  in  1825  ;  and  the  simultaneous  death 
of  Adams  and  Jefferson  on  the  fourth  of  July,  1826. 
These,  and  some  similar  occurrences,  were  well  adapted 
to  excite  the  minds  of  youthful  writers  and  speakers,  and 


PREFACE    TO    THE    PRESENT    EDITION.  XI 

to  give  a  complexion  to  their  thoughts  and  style.  They 
produced,  if  I  mistake  not,  in  the  community  at  large,  a 
feeling  of  comprehensive  patriotism,  which  I  fear  has,  in 
a  considerable  degree,  passed  away.  While  it  lasted,  it 
prompted  a  strain  of  sentiment  which  does  not  now,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  find  a  cordial  response  from  the  people  in 
any  part  of  the  country.  Awakened  from  the  pleasing 
visions  of  former  years  by  the  fierce  recriminations  and 
dark  forebodings  of  the  present  day,  I  experience  the 
feelings  of  the  ancient  dreamer  when  cured  of  his  harm- 
less delusions  :  — 


-"me   occidistis,  amici, 


Non  servastis,  ait,  cui  sic  extorta  voluptas, 
Et  demtus  per  vim  mentis  gratissimus  error." 

A  few  words  more  of  explanation  will  perhaps  be 
pardoned  me.  Although  the  following  addresses  cover  a 
considerable  portion  of  my  life,  it  would  be  unjust  to 
regard  them  as  its  main  business.  They  are  all  of  them 
occasional,  most  of  them  hasty  productions.  It  is  still  my 
purpose,  should  my  health  permit,  to  offer  to  the  public 
indulgence  a  selection  from  a  large  number  of  articles 
contributed  by  me  to  the  North  American  Review,  and 
from  the  speeches,  reports,  and  official  correspondence 
prepared  in  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  the  several 
official  stations,  which  I  have  had  the  honor  to  fill 
at  home  and  abroad.  Nor  am  I  wholly  without  hope 
that  I  shall  be  able  to  execute  the  more  arduous  pro- 
ject to  which  I  have  devoted  a  good  deal  of  time  for 
many  years,  and  towards  which  I  have  collected  ample 
materials  —  that  of  a  systematic  treatise  on  the  modern 


Xll  PREFACE     TO      THE     PRESENT     EDITION. 

law  of  nations,  more  especially  in  reference  to  those 
questions  which  have  been  discussed  between  the  gov- 
ernments of  the  United  States  and  Europe  since  the 
peace  of  1783. 

EDWARD  EVERETT. 
CAMBRIDGE,  May,   1850. 


CONTENTS 


FIRST     VOLUME. 


i. 

THE  CIRCUMSTANCES  FAVORABLE  TO  THE  PROGRESS  OF  LITERATURE 
IN  AMERICA, 9 

An    Oration    delivered   at   Cambridge,  before    the   Society 
of  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  on  the  26th  of  August,  1824. 

II. 

THE  FIRST  SETTLEMENT  OF  NEW  ENGLAND, 45 

An  Oration  delivered  at  Plymouth,  on  the  22d  of  Decem- 
ber,   1824. 

III. 
THE  FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTIONARY  WAR,      ...     73 

An  Oration  delivered    at   Concord,  on  the  19th  of  April, 
1825. 

IV. 

THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  THE  AMERICAN  CONSTITUTIONS,     .     .     .      103 

An  Oration  delivered  at  Cambridge,  on   the   4th   of  July 
1826. 

VOL.    I.  i 


2  CONTENTS. 

V. 

ADAMS  ADD  JEFFERSON, 131 

A  Eulogy  delivered  at  Charlestown,  on  t/ie  1st  of  August, 
1826,  in  commemoration  of  John  Adams  and  Thomas  Jeffer- 
son, who  died  on  the  4th  of  July  preceding. 

VI. 
THE  HISTORY  OF  LIBERTY, 150 

An  Oration  delivered  at  Charlestown,  on  the  4th  of 
July,  1828. 

vn. 

MONUMENT  TO  HARVARD, 173 

An  Address  delivered  on  occasion  of  the  erection  of  a 
monument  to  John  Harvard  in  the  graveyard  at  Charlestown. 
on  the  26th  of  September,  182a 

VIII. 
SPEECH  AT  NASHVILLE,  TENNESSEE,       . 190 

Delivered  at  a  public  dinner  in  that  place,  on  the  2d  of 
June,  1829. 

IX. 

SPEECH  AT  LEXINGTON,  KENTUCKY,        198 

Delivered  at  a  public  dinner  in  that  place,  on  the  17th 
of  June,  1829 


CONTENTS.  3 

X. 

SPEKCH  AT  THE  YELLOW  SPRINGS,  IN  OHIO, 207 

Delivered  at  a  Dublic  dinner  at  that  place,  on  the  29th 
of  June,  1829. 

XL 

THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  MASSACHUSETTS, 215 

An  Address  delivered  before  the  Charlestown  Lyceum,  on 
the  28th  of  June,  1830;  the  two  hundredth  anniversary  of 
the  arrival  of  Governor  Winthrop. 


XII. 

IMPORTANCE  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  TO  PRACTICAL  MEN, 
AND  THE  ENCOURAGEMENTS  TO  ITS  PURSUIT, 246 

The  substance  of  addresses  delivered  by  the  author  before 
several  institutions  for  scientific  improvement. 


XIII. 
THE  WORKING  MEN'S  PARTY, 283 

A  Lecture  delivered  before  the  Charlestown  Lyceum,  on 
the  6th  of  October,  1830. 

XIV. 

ADVANTAGE  OF  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE  TO  WORKING  MEN,  .     307 

Introduction   to   the   Franklin   Lectures   in   Boston,   on  the 
14th  of  November,  ia31. 


4  CONTENTS. 

XV. 

COLONIZATION  AND  CIVILIZATION  OF  AFRICA, 329 

A  Speech  before  the  American  Colonization  Society,  in 
the  Hall  of  the  House  of  Representatives  at  Washington,  on 
the  16th  of  January,  1832. 

XVI. 

EDUCATION  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES, 344 

A  Speech  at  a  public  meeting  held  at  St  Paul's  Church,  in 
Boston,  on  the  21st  of  May,  1833,  on  behalf  of  Kenyon 
College  in  Ohio. 

XVII. 
THE  BUNKER  HILL  MONUMENT, 354 

A  Speech  made  at  Faneuil  Hall,  on  the  28th  of  May,  1833, 
at  a  meeting  called  by  the  Massachusetts  Charitable  Me- 
chanic Association,  to  take  measures  for  the  completion  of 
the  Monument. 

XVIII. 
TEMPERANCE, 366 

A  Speech  delivered  at  a  temperance  meeting  in  Salem,  on 
the  14th  of  June,  1833. 

XIX. 

THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR  THE  SCHOOL  OF  THE  REVOLUTION,    377 
An  Oration  delivered   at  Worcester,   on  the   4th   of  July, 


CONTENTS.  5 

XX. 

THE  EDUCATION  OF  MANKIND, 404 

An  Oration  delivered  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society 
of  Yale  College  at  New  Haven,  on  the  20th  of  August,  1833. 

XXI. 

AGRICULTURE, 442 

An  Address  delivered  at  Brighton,  before  the  Massachusetts 
Agricultural  Society,  on  the  16th  of  October,  1833. 

XXII. 
EULOGY  ON  LAFAYETTE, 459 

Delivered  in  Faneuil  Hall,  at  the  request  of  the  young 
men  of  Boston,  on  the  6th  of  September,  1834. 

XXIII. 
THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON, 526 

An  Oration  delivered  at  Lexington,  by  request  of  the  citi- 
zens of  that  place,  on  the  19th  (20th)  of  April,  1835. 

XXIV. 

THE  YOUTH  OF  WASHINGTON, 564 

Oration  delivered  on  the  4th  of  July,  1835,  before  the  cit- 
izens of  Beverly,  Massachusetts,  without  distinction  of 
party. 


b  CONTENTS. 

XXV. 

EDUCATION  FAVORABLE  TO  LIBERTY,  MORALS,  AND  KNOWL- 
EDGE,    599 

An  Address  delivered  before  the   literary  societies  of  Am- 
herst  College,  on  the  25th  of  August,  1835. 


XXVI. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK, 634 

An  Address  delivered  at  Bloody  Brook,  in  South  Deerfield, 
on  the  30th  of  September,  1835,  in  commemoration  of  the  fall 
of  the  "Flower  of  Essex"  at  that  spot,  in  King  Philip's  war, 
on  the  18th  of  September,  (O.  S.,)  1675. 


ORATIONS    AND    SPEECHES. 


ORATIONS  AND  ADDRESSES. 


THE  CIRCUMSTANCES  FAVORABLE  TO  THE  PROG- 
RESS OF  LITERATURE  IN  AMERICA.* 


MR  PRESIDENT  AND  GENTLEMEN  : 

IN  discharging  the  honorable  trust  which  you  have  as- 
signed to  me  on  this  occasion,  I  am  anxious  that  the  hour 
which  we  pass  together  should  be  exclusively  occupied  with 
those  reflections  which  belong  to  us  as  scholars.  Our  asso- 
ciation in  this  fraternity  is  academical ;  we  entered  it  before 
our  Alma  Mater  dismissed  us  from  her  venerable  roof; 
and  we  have  now  come  together,  in  the  holidays,  from  every 
variety  of  pursuit,  and  every  part  of  the  country,  to  meet  on 
common  ground,  as  the  brethren  of  one  literary  household. 
The  duties  and  cares  of  life,  like  the  Grecian  states,  in  time 
of  war,  have  proclaimed  to  us  a  short  armistice,  that  we  may 
come  up,  in  peace,  to  our  Olympia. 

On  this  occasion,  it  has  seemed  proper  to  me  that  we 
should  turn  our  thoughts,  not  merely  to  some  topic  of  literary 
interest,  but  to  one  which  concerns  us  as  American  scholars. 
I  have  accordingly  selected,  as  the  subject  of  our  inquiry,  the 
circumstances  favorable  to  the  progress  of  literature  in  the 
United  States  of  America.  In  the  discussion  of  this  sub- 
ject, that  curiosity,  which  every  scholar  naturally  feels,  in 
tracing  and  comparing  the  character  of  the  higher  civiliza- 
tion of  different  countries,  is  at  once  dignified  and  rendered 

*  An  oration,  pronounced  at  Cambridge,  before  the  Society  of  Phi  Beta 
Kappa,  2Qth  August,  1824. 

VOL.    1.  1 


10  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

practical  by  the  connection  of  the  inquiry  with  the  condition 
and  prospects  of  his  native  land. 

I  am  aware  that  such  inquiries  are  apt  to  degenerate  into 
fanciful  speculations  and  doubtful  refinements.  Why  Asia 
has,  almost  without  exception,  been  the  abode  of  some  form 
of  despotism,  and  Europe  more  propitious  to  liberty;  — why 
the  civilization  of  the  Egyptians  was  of  a  character  so  mel 
ancholy  and  perishable  ;  that  of  the  Greeks  so  elegant,  versa 
tile,  and  life-giving ;  that  of  the  Romans  so  stern  and  tardy, 
till  they  became  the  imitators  of  a  people  whom  they  con- 
quered and  despised,  but  never  equalled ;  —  why  tribes  of 
barbarians,  from  the  north  and  east,  not  known  to  differ,  es- 
sentially, from  each  other,  at  the  time  of  their  settlement  in 
Europe,  should  have  laid  the  foundation  of  national  charac- 
ters so  dissimilar  as  those  of  the  Spaniards,  French,  Germans, 
and  English; — are  questions  to  which  such  answers,  only, 
can  be  given,  as  will  be  just  and  safe,  in  proportion  as  they 
are  general  and  comprehensive.  It  is  difficult,  even  in  the 
case  of  the  individual  man,  to  point  out  precisely  the  causes, 
under  the  operation  of  which,  members  of  the  same  commu- 
nity, and  even  of  the  same  family,  grow  up,  with  characters 
the  most  diverse.  It  must,  of  course,  be  much  more  difficult 
to  perform  the  same  analysis  on  a  subject  so  vast  as  a  nation, 
composed  of  communities  and  individuals,  greatly  differing 
from  each  other ;  all  subjected  to  innumerable  external 
influences  ;  and  working  out  the  final  result,  often  in  the  lapse 
of  ages,  not  less  by  mutual  counteraction,  than  cooperation. 

But  as,  in  the  formation  of  individual  character,  there  are 
causes  of  undisputed  and  powerful  operation,  so,  in  national 
character,  there  are  causes,  equally  certain,  of  £rowth  and  ex- 
cellence on  the  one  hand,  and  of  degeneracy  and  ruin  on  the 
other.  It  belongs  to  the  philosophy  of  history  to  investigate 
these  causes  ;  and,  if  possible,  to  point  out  the  circumstances, 
which,  as  furnishing  the  motives,  and  giving  the  direction,  to 
intellectual  effort  in  different  nations,  have  had  a  chief  agency 
in  making  them  what  they  were,  or  are.  Where  it  is  done 
judiciously,  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  curious  thus  to  trace 
physical  or  political  facts  into  moral  and  intellectual  conse- 


AMERICAN    LITEEATURE.  11 

quences,  and  great  historical  results ;  and  to  show  how  cli- 
mate, geographical  position,  local  relations,  institutions,  single 
events,  and  the  influence  of  individuals,  have  fixed  the  char- 
acters and  decided  the  destiny  of  nations. 

In  pursuing  such  inquiries,  we  may,  for  instance,  be  led  to 
the  conclusion,  that  it  is  the  tendency  of  a  tropical  climate  to 
enervate  a  people,  and  thus  fit  them  to  become  the  subjects 
of  a  despotism,  though  it  may  render  them  also,  through  the 
medium  of  a  fervid  temperament,  formidable  instruments  of 
desolating  but  transitory  conquest,  under  the  lead  of  able  and 
daring  chiefs.  We  may  find  that  a  broad  river,  or  a  lofty  chain 
of  mountains,  by  stopping  the  inroads  of  war,  or  of  immigra- 
tion, becomes  the  boundary,  not  merely  of  governments,  but 
of  languages  and  literature,  of  institutions  and  character. 
We  may  sometimes  think  we  can  trace  extraordinary  skill  in 
the  liberal  arts  to  the  existence  of  quarries  of  fine  marble.  We 
may  see  popular  eloquence  springing  out  of  popular  institutions, 
and,  in  its  turn,  greatly  instrumental  in  affecting  the  fortunes  of 
free  states.  We  may  behold  the  spirit  of  an  individual  law- 
giver or  reformer  perpetuated  by  codes  and  institutions,  for 
ages.  We  may  trace  a  peculiar  law  of  progress  in  colonial 
settlements,  insular  states,  tribes  fortified  within  Alpine  bat- 
tlements, or  scattered  over  a  smiling  region  of  olive  gardens 
and  vineyards, —  and  deduce  the  political  and  historical  effects 
of  these  physical  causes. 

These  topics  of  rational  curiosity  and  liberal  speculation, 
as  I  have  already  intimated,  acquire  practical  importance, 
when  the  land  in  which  we  ourselves  live  is  the  subject  of  in- 
vestigation. When  we  turn  the  inquiry  to  our  own  country  ; 
when  we  survey  its  natural  features,  search  its  history,  and 
examine  its  institutions,  to  see  what  are  the  circumstances 
which  are  to  excite  and  guide  the  popular  mind;  it  then 
becomes  an  inquiry  of  the  highest  interest,  and  worthy  the 
attention  of  every  patriotic  scholar.  We  then  dwell,  not  on  a 
distant,  uncertain,  perhaps  fabulous,  past,  but  on  an  impend- 
ing future,  teeming  with  individual  and  public  fortune ;  a 
future,  toward  which  we  are  daily  and  rapidly  swept  forward, 
and  with  which  we  stand  in  the  dearest  connection  that  can 


12  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

bind  the  generations  of  men  together ;  a  future,  which  oui 
own  characters,  actions,  and  principles,  may  influence,  for 
good  or  evil,  for  lasting  glory  or  shame.  We  then  strive,  as 
far  as  our  poor  philosophy  can  do  it,  to  read  the  country's 
reverend  auspices ;  to  cast  its  great  horoscope  in  the  national 
sky,  where  some  stars  are  waning,  and  some  have  set.  We 
endeavor  to  ascertain  whether  the  soil,  which  we  love  as 
that  where  our  fathers  are  laid,  and  we  shall  presently  be  laid 
with  them,  is  likely  to  be  trod,  in  times  to  come,  by  an  en- 
lightened, virtuous,  and  free  people. 

1.  The  first  circumstance,  of  which  I  shall  speak,  as  influ- 
encing the  progress  of  letters  by  furnishing  the  motives  to 
intellectual  effort  among  us,  is  the  new  form  of  political  soci- 
ety established  in  the  United  States ;  viz.,  a  confederacy  of 
republics,  in  which,  however,  within  the  limits  of  the  Consti- 
tution, the  central  government  acts  upon  the  individual  citi- 
zen. It  is  not  my  purpose  to  detain  y.ou  with  so  trite  a  topic 
as  the  praises  of  free  political  institutions  ;  but  to  ask  your 
attention  to  the  natural  operation  of  a  system  like  ours  on  the 
literary  character  of  a  people.  I  call  this  a  new  form  of  po- 
litical society.  The  ancient  Grecian  republics,  indeed,  were 
free  enough,  within  the  walls  of  the  single  cities,  of  which 
many  of  them  were  wholly  or  chiefly  composed ;  while, 
toward  the  confederate  or  tributary  states,  their  governments 
generally  assumed  the  form  of  a  despotism,  more  capricious, 
and  not  less  arbitrary,  than  that  of  a  single  tyrant.  Rome 
was  never  the  abode  of  well-regulated  republican  liberty. 
The  remark  just  made  of  the  Grecian  republics,  in  reference 
to  allied  states,  applies  to  the  Roman,  for  the  greater  portion 
of  its  history ;  while,  within  the  walls  of  the  city,  the  com- 
monwealth fluctuated  between  the  evils  of  an  oppressive  aris- 
tocracy and  a  factious  populace.  Since  the  downfall  of  Rome, 
the  rudiments  of  a  representative  legislature  are  to  be  found 
in  the  estates  of  some  of  the  governments  of  continental 
Europe,  and  far  more  distinctly  and  effectually  developed  in  the 
British  Parliament ;  but  a  uniform  and  complete  representative 
system,  organized  by  a  written  constitution  of  government, 
and  unaccompanied  by  a  powerful  hereditary  element,  is 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  13 

original  in  this  country.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  the  whole 
direction  and  influence  of  affairs,  and  all  the  great  organic 
functions  of  the  body  politic,  are  subjected,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, —  the  executive  and  legislative  functions  directly,  — 
to  free  popular  choice.  Whatsoever  quickening  influence 
resides  in  public  honors  and  trusts,  and  in  the  cheerful  con- 
sciousness of  individual  participation  in  the  most  momentous 
political  rights,  is  here,  for  the  first  time,  exerted,  directly,  on 
the  largest  mass  of  men,  with  the  smallest  possible  deductions  ; 
and  as  a  despotism,  like  that  of  Turkey  or  Persia,  is,  by  all  admis- 
sion, the  form  of  government  least  favorable  to  the  intellectual 
progress  of  a  people,  it  would  seem  equally  certain,  that  the 
farther  you  recede  from  such  a  despotism,  in  the  establish- 
ment of  a  system  of  popular  and  constitutional  liberty,  the 
greater  the  assurance  that  the  universal  mind  of  the  country 
will  be  powerfully  and  genially  excited. 

I  am  aware  that  it  is  a  common  notion,  that,  under  an 
elective  government,  of  very  limited  powers,  like  that  of  the 
United  States,  we  lose  that  powerful  spring  of  action  which 
exists  in  the  patronage  of  strong  hereditary  governments,  and 
must  proceed  from  the  crown.  I  believe  it  is  a  prevalent 
opinion,  abroad,  among  those  who  entertain  the  most  friendly 
sentiments  toward  the  American  system,  that  we  must  consent 
to  dispense  with  something  of  the  favorable  influence  of 
princely  and  royal  patronage  on  letters  and  the  arts,  and  find 
our  consolation  in  the  political  benefits  of  a  republican  gov- 
ernment. It  may  be  doubted,  however,  whether  this  view  be 
not  entirely  fallacious.  For,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  by  no 
means  true  that  a  popular  government  will  be  destitute  either 
of  the  means  or  the  disposition  to  exercise  a  liberal  patronf-ge. 
No  government,  as  a  government,  ever  did  more  for  the  fine 
arts  than  that  of  Athens.  In  the  next  place,  it  is  to  be  con- 
sidered, in  this  connection,  that  the  evils  of  centralization  are 
as  evident,  in  reference  to  the  encouragement  of  the  general 
mind  of  the  people,  as  they  are  in  regard  to  a  contented  ac- 
quiescence in  political  administration.  Whatever  is  gained, 
for  those  who  enjoy  it,  by  concentrating  a  powerful  patronage 
in  the  capital,  and  in  the  central  administration,  is  lost  in  the 


14  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

neglect  and  discouragement  of  the  distant  portions  of  the 
state,  and  its  subordinate  institutions.  It  must  be  recollected, 
that  our  representative  system  extends  far  beyond  the  election 
of  the  high  officers  of  the  national  and  state  governments. 
It  pervades  our  local  and  municipal  organizations,  and  proba- 
bly exercises,  in  them,  the  most  efficient  and  salutary  part  of 
its  influence.  In  the  healthful  action  of  this  system,  whatever 
virtue  there  is  in  patronage  is  made  to  pervade  the  republic, 
like  the  air ;  to  reach  the  farthest,  and  descend  to  the  lowest. 
It  is  made  not  only  to  cooperate  with  the  successful,  and 
decorate  the  prosperous,  but  "  to  remember  the  forgotten,  to 
attend  to  the  neglected,  to  visit  the  forsaken."  Hitherto,  for 
the  most  part,  men  in  need  of  patronage  have  had  but  one 
weary  pilgrimage  to  perform,  —  to  travel  up  to  court.  By  an 
improvement  on  the  Jewish  polity,  which  enjoined  a  visit, 
thrice  a  year,  to  the  Holy  City,  the  theory  of  patronage  in 
question  requires  a  constant  residence  at  the  favored  spot. 
Provincial  has  become  another  term  for  inferior  and  rude ; 
and  unpolite,  which  once  meant  only  rural,  has  been  made  to 
signify  something  little  better  than  barbarous.  As  it  is,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  a  small  part,  only,  of  the  population  of  a 
large  state,  which  can  thus  bring  itself,  or  by  happy  chance 
can  fall,  into  the  sphere  of  metropolitan  favor,  it  follows,  that 
the  mass  of  the  people  are  cut  off  from  the  operation  of  those 
motives  to  exertion,  which  flow  from  the  hope  or  the  posses- 
sion of  patronage. 

But  the  beneficial  effect  of  patronage,  properly  so  called,  is 
probably  much  overrated.  This  effect  is  not,  on  any  system 
of  distribution,  to  be  sought  in  its  direct  application  to  the 
support  of  men  of  genius  and  learning.  Its  best  operation  is 
in  the  cheerful  effect  of  kindly  notice  and  intelligent  audi- 
ence. Talent,  indeed,  desires  to  earn  a  support,  but  not  to 
receive  a  dole.  It  is  rightfully  urged,  as  the  great  advantage 
of  our  system,  that  the  encouragements  of  society  extend  as 
widely  as  its  burdens,  and  search  out,  and  bring  forward, 
whatsoever  of  ability  and  zeal  for  improvement  are  contained 
in  any  part  of  the  land.  I  am  persuaded,  that,  mainly,  in  this 
equal T  *.  diffusion  of  rights  and  privileges  lies  the  secret  of  the 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  15 

astonishing  development  of  intellectual  energy  in  this 
country.  Capacity  and  opportunity,  the  twin  sisters,  who 
can  scarce  subsist  happily  but  with  each  other,  are  brought 
together.  These  little  local  republics  are  schools  of  character 
and  nurseries  of  mind.  The  people,  who  are  to  choose,  and 
from  whose  number  are  to  be  chosen,  by  their  neighbors,  all 
those  who,  either  in  higher  or  lower  stations,  are  intrusted 
with  the  management  of  affairs,  feel  the  strongest  impulse  to 
mental  activity.  They  read,  and  think,  and  form  judgments 
on  important  subjects.  In  an  especial  manner,  they  are  moved 
to  make  provision  for  education.  With  all  its  deficiencies, 
our  system  of  public  schools  —  founded,  in  the  infancy  of  the 
country,  by  the  colonial  legislature,  and  transmitted  to  our 
own  days  —  is  superior  to  any  system  of  public  instruction 
(with  possibly  a  single  exception)  which  has  ever  been  es- 
tablished by  the  most  enlightened  states  of  the  Old  World. 
Hasty  prejudices,  as  to  the  tendencies  of  representative  re- 
publics, have  been  drawn  from  the  disorders  of  the  ill- 
organized  democracies  of  the  ancient  world.  Terrific  exam- 
ples of  license  and  anarchy,  in  Greece  and  Rome,  are  quoted, 
to  prove  that  man  requires  to  be  protected  from  himself, 
forgetting  the  profound  wisdom  wrapped  up  in  the  well-known 
formidable  inquiry,  Quis  custodiet  ipsos  custodes?  But  to 
reason,  in  cases  like  this,  from  the  states  of  Greece  to  our 
constitutions  of  government,  is  to  be  deceived  by  schoolboy 
analogies.  From  the  first  settlement  of  New  England,  and 
from  an  early  stage  of  their  progress  in  many  of  the  other 
states,  one  of  the  most  prominent  traits  of  the  character  of 
our  population  has  been,  to  provide  and  to  diffuse  the  means 
of  education.  The  village  school-house  and  the  village  church 
are  the  monuments  of  our  republicanism ;  to  read,  to  write, 
and  to  discuss  grave  affairs,  in  their  primary  assemblies,  are 
the  licentious  practices  of  our  democracy. 

But,  in  this  acknowledged  result  of  our  system  of  govern- 
ment, another  objection  is  taken  to  its  influence,  as  far  as 
literary  progress  is  concerned.  It  is  urged,  that,  though  it 
may  be  the  effect  of  our  system  to  excite  the  mind  of  the 
people,  it  excites  it  too  much  in  a  political  direction ;  that 


16  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

the  division  and  subdivision  of  the  country  into  states  and 
districts,  and  the  equal  diffusion  of  political  privileges  ana 
powers  among  the  whole  population,  with  the  constant  re- 
currence of  elections,  however  favorable  to  civil  liberty,  are 
unfriendly  to  learning;  that  they  kindle  only  a  political 
ambition ;  and  particularly,  that  they  seduce  the  aspiring 
youth,  from  the  patient  and  laborious  vigils  of  the  student,  to 
plunge  prematurely  into  the  conflicts  of  the  forum. 

I  am  inclined  to  think,  that,  as  far  as  the  alleged  facts 
exist,  they  are  the  necessary  result  of  the  present  stage  of  our 
national  progress,  and  not  an  evil  necessarily  incident  to 
representative  government.  Our  system  is  certainly  an 
economical  one,  both  as  to  the  number  of  persons  employed 
and  the  compensation  of  public  service.  It  cannot,  therefore, 
draw  more  individuals  from  other  pursuits  into  public  life, 
than  would  be  employed  under  any  other  form  or  system  of 
government.  It  is  obvious,  that  the  administration  of  the 
government  of  a  country,  whether  it  be  liberal,  or  absolute, 
or  mixed,  is  the  first  thing  to  be  provided  for.  Some  persons 
must  be  employed  in  making  and  administering  the  laws, 
before  any  other  human  interest  can  be  attended  to.  The 
Fathers  of  Plymouth  organized  themselves  under  a  simple 
compact  of  government,  before  they  left  the  Mayflower. 
This  was  both  natural  and  wise.  Had  they,  while  yet  on 
shipboard,  talked  of  founding  learned  societies,  or  engaged 
in  the  discussion  of  philosophical  problems,  it  would  have 
been  insipid  pedantry.  As  the  organization  and  administra- 
tion of  the  government  are,  in  the  order  of  time,  the  first  of 
mere  human  concerns,  they  must  ever  retain  a  paramount 
importance.  Every  thing  else  must  come  in  by  opportunity ; 
this,  of  necessity,  must  be  provided  for :  otherwise,  life  is  not 
safe,  property  is  not  secure,  and  there  is  no  permanence  in  the 
social  institutions.  The  first  efforts,  therefore,  of  men,  in 
building  up  a  new  state,  are,  of  necessity,  political.  The 
peculiar  relations  of  the  colonies  to  the  parent  state,  also, 
called  into  political  action  much  of  the  talent  of  the  country, 
for  a  century  before  the  revolution.  But  where  else  in  the 
world  did  the  foundation  of  the  college  ever  follow  so  closely 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  17 

«/n  that  of  the  republic,  as  in  Massachusetts  ?  In  the  early 
stages  of  society,  when  there  is  a  scanty  population,  its  entire 
force  is  required  for  administration  and  defence.  We  are 
receding  from  this  stage,  but  have  not  yet  reached,  although 
we  are  rapidly  approaching,  that  in  which  a  crowded  popula- 
tion produces  a  large  amount  of  cultivated  talent,  not  needed 
for  the  service  of  the  state. 

As  far,  then,  as  the  talent  and  activity  of  the  country  are 
at  present  called  forth,  in  a  political  direction,  it  is  fairly  to  be 
ascribed,  not  to  any  supposed  incompatibility  of  popular 
institutions  with  the  cultivation  of  letters,  but  to  the  precise 
point,  in  its  social  progress,  which  the  country  has  reached. 
A  change  of  government  would  produce  no  change  in  this 
respect.  Can  any  man  suppose,  other  things  remaining  the 
same,  that  the  introduction  of  an  hereditary  sovereign,  an 
order  of  nobility,  a  national  church,  a  standing  army,  and  a 
military  police,  would  tend  to  a  more  general  and  more  fruit- 
ful development  of  mental  energy,  or  greater  leisure,  on  the 
part  of  educated  men,  to  engage  in  literary  pursuits  ?  It  is 
obviously  as  impossible  that  any  such  effect  should  be  pro- 
duced, as  that  the  supposed  producing  cause  should  be  put  in 
action,  in  this  country.  By  the  terms  of  the  supposition,  if 
such  a  change  were  made,  the  leading  class  of  the  commu- 
nity, the  nobles,  would  be  politicians,  by  birth ;  as  much 
talent  would  be  required  to  administer  the  state  ;  .as  much 
physical  activity  to  defend  it.  If  there  were  a  class,  as  there 
probably  would  be,  in  the  horizontal  division  of  society, 
which  exists  under  such  governments,  not  taking  an  interest 
in  politics,  it  would  be  that,  which,  under  the  name  of  the 
peasantry,  fills,  in  most  other  countries,  the  place  of,  per- 
haps, the  most  substantial,  uncorrupted,  and  intelligent  popu- 
lation on  earth,  —  the  American  Yeomanry.  We  are  not  left 
to  theory  on  this  point.  There  are  portions  of  the  American 
continent,  earlier  settled  than  the  United  States,  governed, 
from  the  first,  by  absolute  power,  and  possessing  all  the  ad- 
vantages which  can  flow  from  what  is  called  a  strong  govern- 
ment. It  may  be  safely  left  to  the  impartial  judgment  of 
mankind,  to  compare  the  progress,  either  of  general  intelli- 
VOL.  i.  3 


18  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

gence,  or  of  higher  literature,  in  those  portions  of  the  conti- 
nent, and  in  the  United  States.  Nor  would  any  different 
conclusion  be  drawn  from  the  contrast  between  the  colonies 
and  the  United  States,  before  and  since  the  revolution. 

Again,  it  cannot  be  thought  a  matter  of  little  moment,  that, 
under  a  purely  popular  government,  the  cultivation  of  letters 
always  has  been,  and  unquestionably  always  will  be,  deemed 
as  honorable  a  pursuit  as  any  to  which  the  attention  can 
be  devoted.  Under  other  forms  of  government,  a  different 
standard  of  respectability  exists.  Hereditary  rank,  of  neces- 
sity, takes  precedence  ;  and  all  the  institutions  of  society  are 
made  to  regard  the  accidents  of  birth,  as  more  important  than 
personal  merit.  The  choicest  spirits  of  Europe,  for  ten 
centuries,  have  been  trained  up  to  the  feeling,  that  govern- 
ment and  war  are  the  only  callings  worthy  of  noble  blood. 
In  those  foreign  countries,  as  England,  where  the  political 
institutions  have  been  most  improved,  and  the  iron  yoke  of 
feudalism  most  effectually  broken,  —  that  is,  in  other  words, 
where  the  people  have  been  restored  to  their  natural  rights,  — 
we  behold,  as  the  invariable  consequence,  a  proportionate 
intellectual  progress.  What  could  be  more  preposterous,  than 
to  attribute  this  progress  to  the  operation  of  those  remnants 
of  the  feudal  system,  which  still  remain,  rather  than  to  the 
free  principles  and  popular  institutions  which  have  succeeded 
it ;  and  to  deny  to  such  institutions,  in  their  more  perfect 
organization,  in  this  country,  a  tendency  to  produce  the 
same  happy  effects,  which  their  partial  introduction  has  every 
where  else  produced? 

It  cannot  but  be,  that  the  permanent  operation  of  a  free 
system  of  constitutional  and  representative  government  should 
be  favorable  to  the  culture  of  mind,  because  it  is  in  con- 
formity with  that  law  of  Nature  by  which  mind  itself  is 
distributed.  The  mental  energy  of  a  people,  which  you 
propose  to  call  out,  the  intellectual  capacity,  which  is  to  be 
cultivated  and  improved,  has  been  equally  diffused,  through- 
out the  land,  by  a  sterner  leveller  than  ever  marched  in  the 
van  of  a  revolution,  —  the  impartial  providence  of  God.  He 
has  planted  the  germs  of  intellect  alike  in  the  city  and  the 


AMERICAN     LITERATURE.  19 

country  ;  by  the  beaten  way-side,  and  in  the  secluded  valley 
and  solitary  hamlet.  Sterling  native  character,  strength  and 
quickness  of  mind,  the  capacity  for  brilliant  attainment,  are 
not  among  the  distinctions  which  Nature  has  given,  exclusive- 
ly, to  the  higher  circles  of  life.  Too  often,  in  quiet  times, 
and  in  most  countries,  they  perish  in  the  obscurity  to  which 
a  false  organization  of  society  consigns  them.  And  the 
reason  why,  in  dangerous,  convulsed,  and  trying  times,  there 
generally  happens  an  extraordinary  development  of  talent, 
unquestionably  is,  that,  in  such  times,  whatever  be  the  nomi- 
nal form  of  the  government,  necessity,  for  the  moment, 
proclaims  an  intellectual  Republic. 

What  happens  in  a  crisis  of  national  fortune,  under  all 
governments,  is,  in  this  respect,  the  steady  and  natural  opera- 
tion of  our  political  institutions.  Their  foundation,  at  last, 
is  in  dear  Nature.  They  do  not  consign  the  greater  part  of 
the  social  system  to  torpidity  and  mortification.  They  send 
out  a  vital  nerve  to  every  member  of  the  community,  how- 
ever remote,  by  which  it  is  brought  into  living  conjunction 
and  strong  sympathy  with  the  kindred  intellect  of  the  nation. 
They  thus  encourage  Nature  to  perfect  her  work,  on  the 
broadest  scale.  By  providing  systems  of  universal  and  cheap 
education,  they  multiply,  indefinitely,  the  numbers  of  those 
to  whom  the  path  is  opened,  for  further  progress ;  and  thus 
bring  up  remote,  and  otherwise  unpatronized,  talent  into  the 
cheerful  field  of  competition.  The  practical  operation  of 
popular  institutions  of  government  provides,  in  innumerable 
ways,  a  demand  for  every  species  of  intellectual  effort,  not 
merely  within  the  circle  of  a  capital,  but  throughout  the  land. 
In  short,  wherever  man  has  been  placed  by  Providence, 
endowed  with  rational  capacities  of  improvement,  there  the 
genius  of  the  republic  visits  him,  with  a  voice  of  encourage- 
ment and  hope.  Every  day  he  receives,  from  the  working  of 
the  social  system,  some  new  assurance  that  he  is  not  forgotten 
in  the  multitude  of  the  people.  He  is  called  to  do  some  act, 
to  assert  some  right,  and  to  enjoy  some  privilege ;  and  he  is 
elevated,  by  this  consciousness  of  his  social  importance,  from 
the  condition  of  the  serf  or  the  peasant,  to  that  of  the  free- 
man and  the  citizen. 


20  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

In  thus  maintaining  that  the  tendency  of  our  popular 
institutions,  at  the  present  stage  of  our  national  progress,  to 
excite  a  diffusive  interest  in  politics,  is  in  no  degree  unfriendly 
to  the  permanent  intellectual  improvement  of  the  country,  it 
is  not  intended  to  assert  that  the  peculiar  and  original  char- 
acter of  these  institutions  will  produce  no  corresponding 
modification  of  our  literature.  The  reverse  is,  unquestion- 
ably, the  fact.  It  may  safely  be  supposed,  that,  with  the 
growth  of  the  people  in  wealth  and  population,  as  the  various 
occasions  of  an  enterprising  and  prosperous  community, 
placed  on  the  widest  theatre  of  action  ever  opened  to  man, 
call  into  strong  action  and  vigorous  competition  the  cultivated 
talent  of  the  country,  some  peculiar  tone,  form,  and  propor- 
tion will  be  given  to  its  literature,  by  the  nature  of  its 
political  institutions,  and  the  social  habits  founded  on  them. 
Literature  is  but  a  more  perfect  communication  of  man  with 
man,  and  mind  with  mind.  It  is  the  judgment,  the  memory, 
the  imagination ;  discoursing,  recording,  or  musing  aloud, 
upon  the  materials  drawn  from  the  great  storehouse  of  obser- 
vation, or  fashioned  out  of  them  by  the  creative  powers  of 
the  mind.  It  is  the  outward  expression  of  the  intellectual 
man ;  or,  if  not  this,  it  is  poor  imitation.  What,  therefore, 
affects  the  man,  affects  the  literature  ;  and  it  may  be  assumed, 
as  certain,  that  the  peculiarity  of  our  political  institutions 
will  be  represented  in  the  character  of  our  intellectual  pur- 
suits. Government,  war,  commerce,  manners,  and  the  stage 
of  social  progress,  are  reflected  in  the  literature  of  a  country. 
No  precedent  exists,  to  teach  us  what  direction  the  mind  will 
most  decidedly  take,  under  the  strong  excitements  to  action 
above  described,  unrestrained  by  the  direct  power  of  govern- 
ment, but  greatly  influenced  by  public  sentiment,  throughout 
a  vastly-extensive  and  highly-prosperous  country,  into  which 
the  civilization  of  older  states  has  been  rapidly  transfused. 

This  condition  of  things  is,  evidently,  substantially  new, 
and  renders  it  impossible  to  foresee  what  garments  our  native 
muses  will  weave  to  themselves.  To  foretell  our  literature 
would  be  to  create  it.  There  was  a  time,  before  an  epic  poem, 
a  tragedy,  an  historical  composition,  or  a  forensic  harangue, 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  21 

had  ever  been  produced  by  the  wit  of  man.  It  was  a  time 
of  vast  and  powerful  empires,  and  of  populous  and  wealthy 
cities.  We  have  no  reason  to  think  that  any  work,  in  either 
of  those  departments  of  literature,  (with  the  exception,  per- 
haps, of  some  meagre  chronicle,  which  might  be  called  his- 
tpry,)  was  produced  by  the  early  Ethiopians,  the  Egyptians, 
or  the  Assyrians.  Greece  herself  had  been  settled  a  thousand 
years,  before  the  golden  age  of  her  literature.  At  length,  the 
new  and  beautiful  forms,  in  which  human  thought  and  pas- 
sion expressed  themselves  in  that  favored  region,  sprang  up, 
and  under  the  excitement  of  free  political  institutions.  Be- 
fore the  epos,  the  drama,  the  oration,  the  history,  appeared, 
it  would,  of  course,  have  been  idle  for  the  philosopher  to 
form  conjectures  as  to  the  paths  which  would  be  struck 
out  by  the  kindling  genius  of  the  age.  He  who  could 
form  such  an  anticipation  could  and  would  realize  it,  and  it 
would  be  anticipation  no  longer.  The  critic  is  ages  behind 
the  poet.  Epic  poetry  was  first  conceived  of,  when  the  gor- 
geous vision  of  the  Iliad,  not,  indeed,  in  its  full  detail  of  cir- 
cumstances, but  in  the  dim  fancy  of  its  leading  scenes  and 
bolder  features,  burst  upon  the  soul  of  Homer. 

It  would  be  equally  impossible  to  mark  out,  beforehand, 
the  probable  direction  in  which  the  intellect  of  this  country 
will  move,  under  the  influence  of  institutions  as  new  and 
peculiar  as  those  of  Greece,  and  so  organized  as  to  secure 
the  best  blessings  of  popular  government,  without  the  evils 
of  anarchy.  But  if,  as  no  one  will  deny,  our  political  system 
brings  more  minds  into  action,  on  equal  terms,  and  extends 
the  advantages  of  education,  more  equally,  throughout  the 
community ;  if  it  provides  a  prompter  and  wider  circulation  of 
thought ;  if,  by  raising  the  character  of  the  masses,  it  swells 
to  tens  of  thousands  and  millions  those  "  sons  of  emulation, 
who  crowd  the  narrow  strait  where  honor  travels,"  it  would 
seem  not  too  much  to  anticipate  new  varieties  and  peculiai 
power  in  the  literature,  which  is  but  the  voice  and  utterance 
of  all  this  mental  action.  The  instrument  of  communication 
may  receive  improvement ;  the  written  and  spoken  language 
acquire  new  vigor  ;  possibly,  forms  of  address  wholly  new 


22  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

will  be  devised.  Where  great  interests  are  at  stake,  great 
concerns  rapidly  succeeding  each  other,  depending  on  almost 
innumerable  wills,  and  yet  requiring  to  be  apprehended  in  a 
glance,  and  explained  in  a  word  ;  where  movements  are  to 
be  given  to  a  vast  population,  not  so  much  by  transmitting 
orders  as  by  diffusing  opinions,  exciting  feelings,  and  touch- 
ing the  electric  chord  of  sympathy ;  there  language  and  ex- 
pression will  become  intense,  and  the  old  processes  of  com- 
munication must  put  on  a  vigor  and  a  directness  adapted  to  the 
condition  of  things. 

Our  country  is  called,  as  it  is,  practical ;  but  this  is  the 
element  for  intellectual  action.  No  strongly-marked  and  high- 
toned  literature,  poetry,  eloquence,  or  philosophy,  ever  ap- 
peared, but  under  the  pressure  of  great  interests,  great  enter- 
prises, perilous  risks,  and  dazzling  rewards.  Statesmen,  and 
warriors,  and  poets,  and  orators,  and  artists,  start  up  under 
one  and  the  same  excitement.  They  are  all  branches  of  one 
stock.  They  form,  and  cheer,  and  stimulate,  and,  what  is 
worth  all  the  rest,  understand,  each  other ;  and  it  is  as  truly 
the  sentiment  of  the  student,  in  the  recesses  of  his  cell,  as  of 
the  soldier  in  the  ranks,  which  breathes  in  the  exclamation, 

"  To  all  the  sons  of  sense  proclaim, 
One  glorious  hour  of  crowded  life 
Is  worth  an  age  without  a  name ;" 

crowded  with  emotion,  thought,  utterance,  and  achievement. 
Let  us  now  inquire  how  history  and  experience  confirm 
the  foregoing  speculations.  Here  we  shall  be  met  again  at 
the  outset,  and  reminded  of  the  splendid  patronage  which  has 
been  bestowed  by  strong  governments  on  literature ;  patron- 
age of  a  kind  which  necessarily  implies  the  centralization  of 
the  resources  of  the  state,  and  is  consequently  inconsistent 
with  a  representative  system.  We  shall  be  told  of  the  rich 
establishments,  and  liberal  pensions ;  of  museums  founded, 
libraries  collected,  and  learned  societies  sustained  ;  by  Ptole- 
mies, Augustuses,  and  Louises,  of  ancient  and  modern  times. 
Then  we  shall  be  directed  to  observe  the  fruit  of  this  noble 
patronage,  in  the  wonders  of  antiquarian  and  scientific  lore 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  23 

which  it  has  ushered  into  the  world;  the  Thesauruses  and 
Corpuses,  from  which  the  emulous  student,  who  would  under- 
stand all  things,  recoils  in  horror,  and  in  the  contemplation  of 
which,  meek-eyed  Patience  folds  her  hands  in  despair. 

When  we  have  reflected  on  these  things,  and  turn  our 
thoughts  back  to  our  poor  republican  land  ;  to  our  frugal  state 
treasuries,  and  the  caution  with  which  they  are  dispensed ;  to 
our  modest  private  fortunes,  arid  the  thrift  with  which  they 
are,  of  necessity,  hoarded;  to  our  scanty  public  libraries, 
and  proportionably  limited  private  collections,  —  we  may 
be  apt  to  form  gloomy  auguries  of  the  influence  of  free 
political  institutions  on  letters.  Here,  then,  we  may  fairly 
scrutinize  the  real  character  of  this  vaunted  patronage,  and 
inquire  what  it  has  actually  done  for  the  pure  original  litera- 
ture of  any  people.  How  much  was  unfruitful  pomp  and 
display,  and  how  much  mere  favoritism ;  and  of  the  expen- 
sive literary  enterprises,  to  which  I  have  alluded,  how  many 
may  be  compared  to  the  Pyramids  —  stupendous  monuments 
of  industry,  labor,  and  power,  of  little  value  to  the  eye  of 
taste,  and  of  no  benefit  to  man  ? 

But  let  us  examine,  more  carefully,  the  experience  of  for- 
mer ages,  and  see  how  far  their  political  institutions,  as  they 
have  been  more  or  less  popular,  have  been  more  or  less  pro- 
ductive of  intellectual  excellence.  When  we  make  this  ex- 
amination, we  shall  be  gratified  to  find,  that  the  clear  prece- 
dents are  all  in  favor  of  liberty.  The  greatest  efforts  of 
human  genius  have  been  made  where  the  nearest  approach 
to  free  institutions  has  taken  place.  Not  one  ray  of  intellec- 
tual light  shone  forth,  as  far  as  we  know,  to  cheer  the  long 
and  gloomy  ages  of  the  Memphian  and  Babylonian  despots. 
Not  an  historian,  not  an  orator,  not  a  poet,  as  has  been 
already  observed,  is  heard  of  in  their  annals.  When  we  ask 
what  was  achieved  by  the  generations  of  thinking  beings,  — 
the  millions  of  men,  whose  natural  genius  may  have  been  as 
bright  as  that  of  the  Greeks,  nay,  who  forestalled  the  Greeks 
in  the  first  invention  of  many  of  the  arts,  —  we  are  told  that 
they  built  the  pyramids  of  Memphis,  the  temples  of  Thebes, 
the  tower  of  Babylon ;  and  carried  Sesostris  and  Ninus  upon 


24  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

their  shoulders,  from  the  west  of  Africa  to  the  Indus.  Mark 
the  contrast  in  Greece.  With  the  first  emerging  of  that 
country  into  the  light  of  political  liberty,  the  poems  of  Ho- 
mer appear.  Some  centuries,  alike  of  political  confusion  and 
literary  darkness,  follow,  and  then  the  great  constellation  of 
their  geniuses  seems  to  rise  at  once.  The  stormy  eloquence 
and  the  deep  philosophy,  the  impassioned  drama  and  the  grave 
history,  were  all  produced  for  the  entertainment  of  the  "fierco 
democratic  "  of  Athens. 

Here,  then,  the  genial  influence  of  liberty  on  letters  is 
strongly  put  to  the  test.  Athens  was  certainly  a  free  state  ; 
free  to  licentiousness,  free  to  madness.  The  rich  were  arbi- 
trarily pillaged  to  defray  the  public  expenses ;  the  great  were 
banished  to  appease  the  envy  of  their  rivals ;  the  wise  sacri- 
ficed to  the  fury  of  the  populace.  It  was  a  state,  in  short, 
where  liberty  existed,  with  most  of  the  imperfections  which 
have  sometimes  led  the  desponding  to  love  and  praise  despot- 
ism. Still,  however,  it  was  for  this  lawless,  merciless,  but 
free  people,  that  the  most  chaste  and  accomplished  literature 
which  the  world  has  known,  was  produced.  The  philosophy 
of  Plato  was  the  attraction  which  drew  the  young  men  of 
this  factious  city  to  a  morning's  walk  in  the  olive  gardens  of 
the  academy.  Those  tumultuous  assemblies  of  Athens,  which 
rose  in  their  wrath,  and  to  a  man,  and  clamored  for  the  blood 
of  Phocion,  required  to  be  addressed  in  the  profoundly  studied 
and  exquisitely  wrought  orations  of  Demosthenes. 

No !  the  noble  and  elegant  arts  of  Greece  grew  up  in  no 
Augustan  age.  Unknown  before  in  the  world,  strangers  on 
the  Nile,  and  on  the  Euphrates,  they  sprang  at  once  into  life, 
in  a  region  not  unlike  our  own  New  England,  —  iron-bound, 
sterile,  but  free.  The  imperial  astronomers  of  Chaldaea  went 
up  almost  to  the  stars  in  their  observatories;  but  it  was  a 
Greek  who  first  foretold  an  eclipse,  and  measured  the  year. 
Some  happy  genius  in  the  East  invented  the  alphabet,  but  not 
a  line  has  reached  us  of  profane  literature,  in  any  of  their 
languages ;  and  it  is  owing  to  the  embalming  power  of  Gre- 
cian genius,  that  the  invention  itself  has  been  transmitted  to 
the  world.  The  Egyptian  architects  could  erect  structures, 


AMERICAN     LITERATURE.  25 

which,  after  three  thousand  years,  are  still  standing  in  their 
Uncouth,  original  majesty ;  but  it  was  only  on  the  barren  soil 
of  Attica,  that  the  beautiful  columns  of  the  Parthenon  and 
the  Theseum  could  rest,  which  are  standing  also. 

With  the  decline  of  liberty  in  Greece  began  the  decline  of 
her  letters  and  her  arts,  though  her  tumultuous  democracies 
were  succeeded  by  liberal  and  accomplished  princes.  Com- 
pare the  literature  of  the  Alexandrian  with  that  of  the  Per- 
iclean  age  ;  how  cold,  pedantic,  and  imitative !  Compare,  I 
will  not  say  the  axes,  the  eggs,  the  altars,  and  the  other  frigid 
devices  of  the  pensioned  wits  in  the  museum  at  Alexandria, 
in  a  far  subsequent  a.ge,  but  compare  their  best  productions 
with  those  of  independent  Greece  ;  Callimachus  with  Pindar, 
Lycophron  with  Sophocles,  Aristophanes  of  Byzantium  with 
Aristotle,  and  Apollonius  the  Rhodian  with  Homer.  When 
we  descend  to  Rome,  to  the  Augustan  age,  the  proverbial  era 
of  Maecenas,  we  find  one  uniform  work  of  imitation,  often  of 
translation.  The  choicest  spirits  seldom  rise  beyond  a  happy 
transfusion  of  the  Grecian  masters.  Horace  translates  AlcEeus. 
Terence  translates  Menander,  Lucretius  translates  Epicurus, 
Virgil  translates  Homer,  and  Cicero,  I  had  almost  said,  trans- 
lates Demosthenes  and  Plato.  But  the  soul  of  republican 
liberty  did  burst  forth  from  the  lips  of  Cicero  ;  her  inspiration 
produced  in  him  the  best  specimens  of  a  purely  original  liter- 
ature, which  the  Romans  have  transmitted  to  us.  After  him, 
their  literary  history  is  written  in  one  line  of  Tacitus :  glis- 
cente  adulatione,  magna  ingenia  deterrcbantur.  The  fine 
arts  revived  a  little,  under  the  princes  of  the  Flavian  house, 
but  never  rose  higher  than  a  successful  imitation  of  the  waning 
excellence  of  Greece,  executed  by  her  fugitive  artists.  With 
the  princes  of  this  line,  the  arts  of  Rome  expired,  and  Con- 
stantine  the  Great  was  obliged  to  tear  down  an  arch  of  Trajan 
for  sculptures,  to  adorn  his  own.  Finally,  a  long  period  of 
military  and  barbarous  despotism  succeeded,  which  buried 
letters  and  arts  in  one  grave  with  national  independence. 

In  modern  times,  the  question  as  to  the  distinct  effect  of 
political  institutions  on  learning,  has  become  greatly  compli- 
cated, in  consequence  of  the  large  number  of  separate  states, 

VOL.  I. 


26  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

into  which  the  civilized  world  is  divided,  and  the  easy  and 
rapid  communication  between  them.  The  consequence  is. 
that  a  powerful  impulse,  given  to  mind  in  one  country,  under 
the  influence  of  causes  favorable  to  its  progress,  may  be  felt 
to  some  extent  in  other  countries,  where  no  such  causes  exist. 
Upon  the  whole,  however,  the  modern  history  of  literature 
furnishes  many  illustrious  examples,  which  may  well  awaken 
a  doubt  whether  much  has  been  effected  by  direct  patronage, 
whether  of  arbitrary  or  liberal  governments,  for  the  encour- 
agement of  letters.  Dante,  Petrarch,  and  Boccaccio,  "the  all 
Etruscan  three,"  were  citizens  of  the  Florentine  republic,  to 
which  they  owed  nothing  but  exile,  confiscation,  and  persecu- 
tion. The  Medici  rendered  important  services  in  promoting 
the  revival  of  letters,  but  Machiavelli  was  pursued  for  resisting 
their  tyrannical  designs  ;  Guicciardini  composed  his  history 
in  exile  ;  and  Galileo  confessed,  in  the  prisons  of'  the  Inquisi- 
tion, that  the  earth  did  not  move.  Ariosto's  princely  patron, 
when  presented  with  a  copy  of  the  Orlando,  asked,  "  Where 
did  you  pick  up  this  trumpery,  Ludovico  ?  "  and  the  "  mag- 
nanimous Alfonso  "  confined  Tasso  in  a  madhouse,  till  he 
became  a  fitting  inmate  for  it.  Cervantes,  after  he  had 
immortalized  himself,  in  his  great  work,  was  obliged  to  write 
on,  for  bread.  The  whole  French  Academy  was  pensioned, 
to  crush  the  great  Corneille.  Racine,  after  living  to  see  his 
finest  pieces  derided  as  cold  and  worthless,  died  of  a  broken 
heart.  The  divine  genius  of  Shakspeare  found  its  best  pat- 
ronage in  popular  favor.  It  gave  him  fortune,  but  it  raised 
him  to  no  higher  rank  than  that  of  a  subaltern  actor  in  his 
own  and  Ben  Jonson's  plays.  The  immortal  Bacon  made 
disastrous  wreck  of  his  greatness,  in  a  court,  and  is  said 
(falsely,  I  trust)  to  have  begged  a  cup  of  beer,  in  his  old  age, 
and  begged  it  in  vain.  The  most  valuable  of  the  pieces  of 
Seldon  were  written  in  that  famous  resort  of  great  minds,  the 
Tower  of  London.  Milton,  surprised  by  want,  in  his  infirm 
old  age,  sold  one  of  the  first  productions  of  the  human  mind 
for  five  pounds.  The  great  boast  of  English  philosophy  was 
expelled  from  his  place  in  Oxford,  and  kept  in  banishment, 
"  the  king  having  been  given  to  understand,"  to  use  the 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  27 

words  of  Lord  Sunderland,  who  ordered  the  expulsion.  "  that 
one  Locke  has,  upon  several  occasions,  behaved  himself  very 
factiously  against  the  government."  Dryden  presents  his  trans- 
lation to  his  patron,  as  "  the  wretched  remainder  of  a  sickly 
age  worn  out  with  study  and  oppressed  with  fortune,  without 
other  support  than  the  constancy  and  patience  of  a  Christian." 
Otway  was  choked  with  a  morsel  of  bread,  too  ravenously 
swallowed  after  a  long  fast.  Johnson,  after  the  publication 
of  his  Dictionary,  was  released  by  Richardson  from  arrest  for 
debt ;  and  Goldsmith,  at  one  period  of  his  career,  took  refuge 
from  actual  starvation  among  the  beggars  of  London.  When 
we  consider  these  facts,  and  the  innumerable  others  of  which 
these  are  a  specimen,  we  may  probably  be  led  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  appearance  of  eminent  geniuses,  under  the  forms 
of  government  subsisting  in  Europe,  furnishes  no  decisive 
proof  that  they  are  the  most  friendly  to  intellectual  progress. 
II.  The  next  circumstance,  worthy  of  mention,  as  pecu- 
liarly calculated  to  promote  the  progress  of  improvement,  and 
to  furnish  motives  to  intellectual  exertion,  in  this  country,  is 
the  extension  of  one  government,  one  language,  and,  sub- 
stantially, one  character,  over  so  vast  a  space  as  the  United 
States  of  America.  Hitherto,  in  the  main,,  the  world  has 
seen  but  two  forms  of  political  government  —  free  govern- 
ments in  small  states,  and  arbitrary  governments  in  large  ones. 
Though  various  shades  of  both  have  appeared,  at  different 
times,  in  the  world,  yet,  on  the  whole,  the  political  ingenuity 
of  man  has  never  before  devised  the  method  of  extending 
purely  popular  institutions  beyond  small  districts,  or  of  gov- 
erning large  states  by  any  other  means  than  military  power. 
The  consequence  has  been,  that  the  favorable  effect  of  free 
institutions  on  intellectual  progress,  has  never  been  developed, 
on  a  very  large  scale.  But,  though  favorable  to  the  improve- 
ment of  the  mind,  under  any  circumstances,  it  is  evident, 
that,  in  order  to  their  full  effect,  in  bringing  forth  the  highest 
attainable  excellence,  they  must  be  permanently  established, 
in  an  extensive  region  and  over  a  numerous  people.  Such  is 
the  state  of  things  existing  in  this  country,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  the  world,  and  for  which  we  are  indebted  to  the 


28  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

peculiar  nature  of  our  government,  as  a  union  of  confeder- 
ated republics.  Its  effect  upon  literature  must  eventually 
be,  to  give  elevation,  dignity,  and  generous  expansion  to 
every  species  of  mental  effort.  A  nationality  at  once  liberal 
and  great  is  the  parent  of  great  thoughts.  The  extent,  the 
resources,  and  the  destiny  of  the  country  are  imaged  forth 
in  the  conception  of  its  leading  minds.  They  are  but  the 
organs  of  the  race  from  which  they  are  descended,  the  land 
in  which  they  live,  and  the  patriotic  associations  under  which 
they  have  been  educated.  These  prompt  their  language  and 
elevate  their  thoughts.  Under  an  impulse  like  the  prophetic 
enthusiasm  of  old,  they  feel  and  utter  the  sentiments  which 
are  inspired  by  the  system  of  which  they  are  the  members. 
As  the  mind  goes  forth  to  enter  into  communion  or  conflict 
with  millions  of  kindred  spirits,  over  a  mighty  realm,  it 
dilates,  with  a  noble  consciousness  of  its  vocation.  It  dis- 
dains mean  conceptions,  and  strives  to  speak  a  noble  word, 
which  will  touch  the  heart  of  a  great  people. 

This  necessary  connection  between  the  extent  of  a  country 
and  its  intellectual  progress,  was,  it  is  true,  of  more  impor- 
tance in  antiquity  than  it  is  at  the  present  day,  because,  at 
that  period  of  the  world,  owing  to  political  causes,  on  which 
we  have  not  time  to  dwell,  there  was,  upon  the  whole,  but 
one  civilized  and  cultivated  people,  at  a  time,  upon  the  stage  ; 
and  the  mind  of  one  nation  found  no  sympathy,  and  derived 
no  aid,  from  the  mind  of  another.  Art  and  refinement  fol- 
lowed in  the  train  of  political  ascendency,  from  the  East  to 
Greece,  and  from  Greece  to  Rome,  declining  in  one  region  as 
they  rose  in  another.  In  the  modern  world,  a  combination 
of  political,  intellectual,  and  even  mechanical  causes,  (for 
the  art  of  printing  is  among  the  most  powerful  of  them,)  has 
produced  an  extension  of  the  highest  civilization  over  a  large 
family  of  states,  existing  contemporaneously  in  Europe  and 
America.  This  circumstance  might  seem  to  mould  the  civil- 
ized portion  of  mankind  into  one  republic  of  letters,  and 
make  it,  comparatively,  a  matter  of  indifference  to  any  indi- 
vidual mind,  whether  its  lot  was  cast  in  a  small  or  a  large,  a 
weak  or  a  powerful,  state.  It  must  be  freely  admitted,  that 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  29 

this  is,  to  some  extent,  the  case  ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  great 
advantages  of  the  modern  over  the  ancient  civilization.  And 
yet  a  singular  fatality  immediately  presents  itself,  to  neutral- 
ize, in  a  great  degree,  the  beneficial  effects  of  this  enlarged 
and  diffused  civilization  on  the  progress  of  letters  in  any  sin- 
gle state.  It  is  true,  that,  instead  of  one  sole  country,  as  in 
antiquity,  where  the  arts  and  refinements  find  a  home,  there 
are,  in  modern  Europe,  seven  or  eight,  equally  entitled  to  the 
general  name  ,of  cultivated  nations,  and  in  each  of  which 
some  minds  of  the  first  order  have  appeared.  And  yet,  by 
the  multiplication  of  languages,  the  powerful  effect  of  inter- 
national sympathy  on  the  progress  of  letters  has  been  greatly 
impaired.  The  muses  of  Shakspeare  and  Milton,  of  Camo- 
ens,  of  Lope  de  Vega  and  Calderon,  of  Corneille  and  Racine, 
of  Dante  and  Tasso,  of  Goethe  and  Schiller,  are  comparative 
strangers  to  each  other.  Certainly  it  is  not  intended  that 
these  illustrious  minds  are  unknown  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
lands  in  which  they  were  trained,  and  to  which  they  spoke. 
But  who  is  ignorant  that  not  one  of  them  finds  a  full  and 
hearty  response  from  any  other  people  but  his  own,  and  that 
their  writings  must  be,  to  some  extent,  a  sealed  book,  except 
to  those  who  read  them  in  the  mother  tongue  ?  There  are 
other  languages  besides  those  alluded  to,  in  which  the  works 
of  a  great  writer  would  be  still  more  effectually  locked  up. 
How  few,  even  of  well-educated  foreigners,  know  any  thing 
of  the  literature  of  the  Hungarian,  Sclavonian,  or  Scandin- 
avian races !  to  say  nothing  of  the  languages  of  the  East. 

This  evil  is  so  great  and  obvious,  that  for  nearly  two 
centuries  after  the  revival  of  letters,  the  Latin  language  was 
adopted,  as  a  matter  of  course,  by  the  scholars  of  Europe,  in 
works  intended  for  general  circulation.  We  see  men  like 
Luther,  Calvin,  Erasmus,  Bacon,  Grotius,  and  Leibnitz, 
who  could  scarce  have  written  a  line  without  exciting  the 
admiration  of  their  countrymen,  driven  to  the  use  of  a  tongue 
which  none  but  the  learned  could  understand.  For  the  sake 
of  addressing  the  scholars  of  other  countries,  these  great 
men,  and  others  like  them,  in  many  of  their  writings,  were 
willing  to  cut  themselves  off  from  all  sympathy  with  the 


30  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

mass  of  those  whom,  as  patriots,  they  must  have  wished 
most  to  instruct.  In  works  of  pure  science  and  learned  crit- 
icism, this  is  of  the  less  consequence  ;  for.  being  independent 
of  sentiment,  it  matters  less  how  remote  from  real  life  the 
symbols  by  which  their  ideas  are  conveyed.  But,  when  we 
see  a  writer,  like  Milton,  who,  as  much  as  any  other  that 
ever  lived,  was  a  master  of  the  music  of  his  native  tongue  ; 
who,  besides  all  the  beauty  of  conception  and  imagery,  knew 
better  than  most  other  men  how  to  breathe  forth  his  thoughts 
and  images, 

"  In  notes  with  many  a  winding  bout 
Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out, 
With  wanton  heed  and  giddy  cunning, 
The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running, 
Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony  ; " 

when  we  see  a  master  of  English  eloquence,  thus  gifted, 
choosing  a  dead  language,  —  the  dialect  of  the  closet,  a 
tongue  without  an  echo  from  the  hearts  of  the  people,  —  as 
the  vehicle  of  his  defence  of  that  people's  rights  ;  asserting 
the  cause  of  Englishmen  in  the  language,  as  it  may  be  truly 
called,  of  Cicero ;  we  can  only  measure  the  incongruity,  by 
reflecting  what  Cicero  would  himself  have  thought  and  felt, 
if  compelled  to  defend  the  cause  of  Roman  freedom,  not  in 
the  language  of  the  Roman  citizen,  but  in  that  of  the  Gre- 
cian rhetorician,  or  the  Punic  merchant.  And  yet,  Milton 
could  not  choose  but  employ  this  language  ;  for  he  felt  that 
in  this,  and  this  alone,  he  could  speak  the  word  "  with  which 
all  Europe  rang  from  side  to  side." 

There  is  little  doubt  that  the  prevalence  of  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, among  modern  scholars,  was  a  great  cause,  not  only 
of  the  slow  progress  of  letters  among  the  people  at  large, 
but  of  the  stiffness  and  constraint  of  the  vernacular  style  of 
most  scholars  themselves,  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth 
centuries.  That  the  reformation  in  religion  advanced  with 
such  rapidity  is,  in  no  small  degree,  to  be  attributed  to  the 
translations  of  the  Scriptures  and  the  use  of  liturgies  in  the 
modern  tongues.  The  preservation,  in  legal  acts,  in  Eng- 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  31 

land,  of  a  foreign  language,  —  I  will  not  offend  the  majesty 
of  Rome  by  calling  it  Latin,  —  down  to  so  late  a  period  as 
1730,  may  be  one  reason  why  reform  in  the  law  did  not 
keep  pace  with  the  progress  of  reform  in  some  other  depart- 
ments. With  the  establishment  of  popular  institutions  under 
Cromwell,  among  various  other  legal  improvements,*  many 
of  which  were  speedily  adopted  by  our  plain-dealing  fore- 
fathers, the  records  of  the  law  were  ordered  to  be  kept  in 
English  ;  "  a  novelty,"  says  the  learned  commentator  on  the 
English  laws,  "which,  at  the  restoration,  was  no  longer 
continued,  practisers  having  found  it  very  difficult  to  express 
themselves  so  concisely  or  significantly  in  any  other  language 
but  Latin."  f 

Nor  are  the  other  remedies  for  the  evil  of  a  multiplicity  of 
tongues  more  efficacious.  Something,  of  course,  is  done  by 
translations,  and  something  by  the  study  of  foreign  lan- 
guages. But  that  no  effectual  transfusion  of  the  higher  litera- 
ture of  a  country  can  take  place  in  the  way  of  translation, 
need  not  be  urged  ;  and  it  is  a  remark  of  one  of  the  few  who 
could  have  courage  to  make  such  a  remark,  Madame  de  Stael, 
that  it  is  impossible  fully  to  comprehend  the  literature  of  a 
foreign  tongue.  The  general  preference,  given  till  lately,  to 
Young's  Night  Thoughts  and  Ossian,  over  all  the  other  Eng- 
lish poets,  in  many  parts  of  the  continent  of  Europe,  confirms 
the  justice  of  this  observation.  It  is  unnecessary,  however, 
to  repeat,  that  it  is  not  intended  to  apply  to  works  of  exact 
science,  or  merely  popular  information. 

There  is,  indeed,  an  influence  of  exalted  genius,  coexten- 
sive with  the  earth.  Something  of  its  power  will  be  felt,  in 
spite  of  the  obstacles  of  different  languages,  remote  regions, 
and  other  times.  The  minds  of  Dante  and  of  Shakspeare 
have,  no  doubt,  by  indirect  influence,  affected  thousands  who 
never  read  a  line  of  either.  But  the  true  empire  of  genius, 
its  sovereign  sway,  must  be  at  home,  and  over  the  hearts  of 
kindred  men.  A  charm,  which  nothing  can  borrow,  and  for 
which  there  is  no  substitute,  dwells  in  the  simple  sound  of 

*  See  a  number  of  them  in  Lord  Somers's  Tracts,  VoL  I. 
t  Blackatone's  Commentaries,  Vol.  III.  p.  422. 


32  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

our  mother  tongue.  Not  analyzed,  nor  reasoned  upon,  it 
unites  the  simplest  recollections  of  early  life  with  the  matur- 
est  conceptions  of  the  understanding.  The  heart  is  willing 
to  open  all  its  avenues  to  the  language  in  which  its  infantile 
caprices  were  soothed ;  and,  by  the  curious  efficacy  of  the 
principle  of  association,  it  is  this  echo  from  the  faint  dawn 
of  intelligence,  which  gives  to  eloquence  much  of  its  manly 
power,  and  to  poetry  much  of  its  divine  charm. 

What  a  noble  prospect  presents  itself,  in  this  way,  for  the 
circulation  of  thought  and  sentiment  in  our  country !  In- 
stead of  that  multiplicity  of  dialect,  by  which  mental  com- 
munication and  sympathy  between  different  nations  are 
restrained  in  the  Old  World,  a  continually  expanding  realm 
is  opened  to  American  intellect,  by  the  extension  of  one 
language  over  so  large  a  portion  of  the  Continent.  The  en- 
ginery of  the  press  is  here,  for  the  first  time,  brought  to  bear, 
with  all  its  mighty  power,  on  the  minds  and  hearts  of  men, 
in  exchanging  intelligence,  and  circulating  opinions,  un- 
checked by  diversity  of  language,  over  an  empire  more 
extensive  than  the  whole  of  Europe. 

And  this  community  of  language^all  important  as  it  is,  is 
but  a  part  of  the  manifold  brotherhood,  which  already  unites 
the  growing  millions  of  America,  with  a  most  powerful  influ- 
ence on  literary  culture.  In  Europe,  the  work  of  interna- 
tional alienation,  which  begins  in  diversity  of  language,  is 
consummated  by  diversity  of  race,  institutions,  and  national 
prejudices.  In  crossing  the  principal  rivers,  channels,  and 
mountains,  in  that  quarter  of  the  world,  you  are  met,  not 
only  by  new  tongues,  but  by  new  forms  of  government,  new 
associations  of  ancestry,  new,  and  often  hostile  objects  of 
national  pride  and  attachment.  While,  on  the  other  hand, 
throughout  the  vast  regions  included  within  the  limits  of  our 
republic,  not  only  the  same  language,  but  the  same  national 
government,  the  same  laws  and  manners,  and  common 
ancestral  associations  prevail.  Mankind  will  here  exist  and 
act  in  a  kindred  mass,  such  as  was  scarcely  ever  before  con- 
gregated on  the  earth's  surface.  What  would  be  the  effect, 
on  the  intellectual  state  of  Europe,  at  the  present  day,  were 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  33 

all  her  nations  and  tribes  amalgamated  into  one  vast  empire, 
speaking  the  same  tongue,  united  into  one  political  system,  and 
that  a  free  one,  and  opening  one  broad,  unobstructed  path- 
way, for  .the  interchange  of  thought  and  feeling,  from  Lisbon 
to  Archangel  ?  If  effects  must  bear  a  constant  proportion  to 
their  causes ;  if  the  energy  of  thought  is  to  be  commensurate 
with  the  masses  which  prompt  it,  and  the  masses  it  must 
penetrate  ;  if  eloquence  is  to  grow  in  fervor  with  the  weight 
of  the  interests  it  is  to  plead,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  assem- 
blies it  addresses  ;  in  a  word,  if  the  faculties  of  the  human 
mind  are  capable  of  tension  and  achievement  altogether  in- 
definite ; 

"Nil  actum  reputans,  dum  quid  superesset  agendum;" 

then  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  a  new  era  will  open  on 
the  intellectual  world,  in  the  fulfilment  of  our  country's 
prospects. 

If  it  should  be  objected,  that  the  permanent  and  prosperous 
existence  of  a  commonwealth  so  extensive  is  not  to  be  hoped 
for,  I  reply,  that  by  the  wise  and  happy  partition  of  powers 
between  the  national  and  state  governments,  in  virtue  of 
which  the  national  government  is  relieved  from  all  the  odium 
of  internal  administration,  and  the  state  governments  are 
spared  the  conflicts  of  foreign  politics,  all  bounds  seem  re- 
moved from  the  possible  extension  of  our  country,  but  the 
geographical  limits  of  the  continent.  Instead  of  growing 
cumbrous,  as  it  increases  in  size,  there  never  was  a  moment, 
since  the  first  settlement  in  Virginia,  when  the  political  sys- 
tem of  America  moved  with  so  firm  and  bold  a  step,  as  at 
>  the  present  day.  Should  our  happy  Union  continue,  this 
great  continent,  in  no  remote  futurity,  will  be  filled  up  with 
the  mightiest  kindred  people  known  in  history  ;  our  lan- 
guage will  acquire  an  extension  which  no  other  ever  pos- 
sessed ;  and  the  empire  of  the  mind,  with  nothing  to  resist 
its  sway,  will  attain  an  expansion,  of  which,  as  yet,  we  can 
but  partly  conceive.  The  vision  is  too  magnificent  to  be 
fully  borne  ;  —  a  mass  of  two  or  three  hundred  millions,  not 
chained  to  the  oar,  like  the  same  number  in  China,  by  a 

VOL.  I.  5 


34  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

stupefying  despotism,  but  held  in  their  several  orbits  of  nation 
and  state,  by  the  grand  representative  attraction  ;  bringing  to 
bear,  on  every  point,  the  concentrated  energy  of  such  a  host ; 
calling  into  competition  so  many  minds ;  uniting  into  one 
great  national  feeling  the  hearts  of  so  many  freemen,  all  to 
be  guided,  moved,  and  swayed,  by  the  master  spirits  of  the 
time  ! 

III.  Let  me  not  be  told  that  this  is  a  chimerical  imagina- 
tion of  a  future  indefinitely  removed  ;  let  me  not  hear  repeat- 
ed the  poor  jest  of  an  anticipation  of  "  two  thousand  years,"  — 
of  a  vision  that  requires  for  its  fulfilment  a  length  of  ages 
beyond  the  grasp  of  any  reasonable  computation.  Tt  is  the 
last  point  of  peculiarity  in  our  condition,  to  which  I  invite 
your  attention,  as  affecting  the  progress  of  intellect,  that  the 
country  is  growing  with  a  rapidity  hitherto  without  example 
in  the  world.  For  the  two  hundred  years  of  our  existence, 
the  population  has  doubled  itself  in  periods  of  less  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century.  In  the  infancy  of  the  country,  and 
while  it  remained  within  the  limits  of  a  youthful  colony,  a 
progress  so  rapid  as  this,  however  important  in  the  principle 
of  growth  disclosed,  was  not  yet  a  circumstance  strongly  to 
fix  the  attention.  But,  arrived  at  a  population  of  ten  millions, 
it  is  a  fact  of  extreme  interest,  that,  within  less  than  twenty- 
five  years,  these  ten  millions  will  have  swelled  to  twenty ; 
that  the  younger  members  of  this  audience  will  be  citizens 
of  the  largest  civilized  state  on  earth  ;  that,  in  a  few  years 
more  than  one  century,  the  American  population  will  equal 
the  fabulous  numbers  of  the  Chinese  empire.  This  rate  of 
increase  has  already  produced  the  most  striking  phenomena. 
A  few  weeks  after  the  opening  of  the  revolutionary  drama 
at  Lexington,  the  momentous  intelligence  that  the  first  blood 
was  spilt  reached  a  party  of  hunters  beyond  the  Alleghanies, 
who  had  wandered  far  into  the  western  wilderness.  In  pro- 
phetic commemoration  of  the  glorious  event,  they  gave  the 
name  of  Lexington  to  the  spot  of  their  encampment  in  the 
woods.  That  spot  is  now  the  capital  of  a  state  as  large  as 
Massachusetts  ;  from  which,  in  the  language  of  one  of  her 
own  citirens,  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of  his  country, 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE,  35 

the  tide  of  emigration  still  farther  westward  is  more  fully 
pouring,  than  from  any  other  in  the  Union.* 

I  need  not  say  that  this  astonishing  increase  of  numbers 
is  by  no  means  the  best  measure  of  the  country's  growth. 
Arts,  letters,  agriculture,  all  the  great  national  interests,  all 
the  sources  of  national  wealth,  are  growing  in  a  ratio  still 
more  rapid.  In  our  cities,  the  intensest  activity  is  apparent  ; 
in  the  country,  every  spring  of  prosperity,  from  the  smallest 
improvement  in  husbandry,  to  the  construction  of  canals  and 
railroads  across  the  continent,  is  in  vigorous  action.  Abroad, 
our  vessels  are  beating  the  pathways  of  the  ocean  white  ;  on 
the  inland  frontier,  the  nation  is  moving  forward  with  a  pace 
more  like  romance  than  reality. 

These  facts  and  influences  form  one  of  those  peculiarities 
in  our  country's  condition,  which  will  have  the  most  power- 
ful effect  on  the  minds  of  the  people.  The  population  of 
most  of  the  states  of  Asia,  and  some  of  Europe,  has  appa- 
rently reached  its  term.  In  some  it  is  declining,  in  some 
stationary  ;  and  in  the  most  prosperous,  under  the  extraord  - 
nary  impulse  of  the  last  part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  it 
doubles  itself  but  about  once  in  seventy-five  years.  In  con- 
sequence of  this,  the  process  of  social  transmission  is  heavy 

*  Mr  Clay's  Speech  on  internal  Improvement  Should  the  population 
continue  to  double  in  about  twenty-two  years,  the  following  will  be  the 
result :  — 

1862 34,126,706 

1884 68,253,412 

1906 136,506,824 

1928 273,013,648 

Many  persons  now  in  existence  will  then  be  alive. 

"  II  arrivera  done,"  says  M.  de  Tocqueville,  "  un  terns  ou  1'on  pourra  voir 
dans  1'Amerique  du  Nord  150,000,000  d'hommes,  egaux  entre  eux,  qui  tous 
appartiendront  a  la  meme  famille,  qui  auront  le  meme  point  de  depart,  la 
meme  civilisation,  la  meme  langue,  la  meme  religion,  les  memes  habitudes, 
les  memes  moeurs,  et  a  travers  lesquels  la  pensee  circulera  sous  la  meme 
forme  et  se  peindra  des  rnemes  couleurs.  Tout  le  reste  est  douteux,  mais 
ceci  est  certain.  Or,  voici  un  fait  entierement  nouveau  dans  le  monde,  et 
dont  1'imagination  elle-meme  ne  saurait  saisir  la  port.ee."  —  De  Tocqueville, 
De  la  Democratic  en  Jlm6rique,  Tom.  II.  p.  415,  5me  ed.  —  This  work  waa 
published  in  1834. 


36  AMERICAJN    LITERATURE. 

and  slow.  Men  not  adventitiously  favored  come  forward  late 
in  life,  and  the  best  years  of  existence  are  exhausted  in  lan- 
guishing competition.  The  man  grows  up,  and,  in  the  stern 
language  of  one  of  their  most  renowned  economists,*  finds 
no  cover  laid  for  him  at  Nature's  table.  The  assurance  of 
the  most  frugal  subsistence  commands  the  brightest  talents 
arid  the  most  laborious  studies ;  poor  wages  pay  for  the 
unremitted  labor  of  the  most  curious  hands;  and  it  is  a 
small  part  of  the  population  only  that  is  within  the  reach 
even  of  these  humiliating  springs  of  action. 

We  need  not  labor  to  contrast  this  state  of  things  with  the 
teeming  growth  and  rapid  progress  of  our  own  country.  In- 
stead of  being  shut  up,  as  it  were,  in  the  prison  of  a  station- 
ary, or  a  slowly  progressive  community,  the  emulation  of  our 
countrymen  is  drawn  out  and  tempted  on  by  an  horizon 
constantly  receding  before  them.  New  nations  of  kindred 
freemen  are  springing  up,  in  successive  periods,  shorter  even 
han  the  active  portion  of  the  life  of  man.  "  While  we  spend 
jr  time,"  says  Burke,  on  this  topic,  "  in  deliberating  on  the 
mode  of  governing  two  millions  in  America,  we  shall  find 
we  have  millions  more  to  manage."  f  Many  individuals 
are  in  this  house  who  were  arrived  at  years  of  discretion 
when  these  words  of  Burke  were  uttered  ;  and  the  two  mil- 
lions which  Great  Britain  was  then  to  manage  have  grown 
into  ten,  exceedingly  unmanageable.  The  most  affecting 
view  of  this  subject  is,  that  it  puts  it  in  the  power  of  the 
wise  and  good  to  gather,  while  they  live,  the  ripest  fruits  of 
their  labors.  Where,  in  human  history,  is  to  be  found  a 
contrast  like  that  which  the  last  fifty  years  have  crowded  into 
the  lives  of  those  favored  men,  who,  raising  their  hands  or 
their  voices,  when  the  feeble  colonies  engaged  in  a  perilous 
conflict  with  one  of  the  most  powerful  empires  on  earth, 
have  lived  to  be  crowned  with  the  highest  honors  of  the 
republic  which  they  established  ?  Honor  to  their  gray 
hairs,  and  peace  and  serenity  to  the  evening  of  their  eventful 
days! 

*  Mr  Malthus. 

f  Speech  on  Conciliation  'with  America,  March  22,  1775. 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  37 

Though  it  may  never  again  be  the  fortune  of  our  country 
to  bring  within  the  compass  of  half  a  century  a  contrast  so 
dazzling  as  this,  yet,  in  its  grand  and  steady  progress,  the 
career  of  duty  and  usefulness  will  be  rim  by  all  its  chil- 
dren, under  a  constantly  increasing  excitement.  The  voice 
which,  in  the  morning  of  life,  shall  awaken  the  patriotic 
sympathy  of  the  land,  will  be  echoed  back  by  a  community, 
vastly  swelled  in  all  its  proportions,  before  that  voice  shall  be 
hushed  in  death.  The  writer,  by  whom  the  noble  features 
of  our  scenery  shall  be  sketched  with  a  glowing  pencil,  the 
traits  of  our  romantic  early  history  gathered  up  with  filial 
zeal,  and  the  peculiarities  of  our  character  delineated  with 
delicate  perception,  cannot  mount  so  rapidly  to  success,  but 
that  ten  years  will  add  new  millions  to  the  numbers  of  his 
readers.  The  American  statesman,  the  orator,  whose  voice  is 
already  heard  in  its  supremacy  from  Florida  to  Maine,  whose 
intellectual  empire  already  extends  beyond  the  limits  of 
Alexander's,  has  yet  new  states  and  new  nations  starting  into 
being,  the  willing  subjects  of  his  sway. 

This  rapid  march  of  the  population  westward  has  been  at- 
tended by  circumstances  in  some  degree  novel  in  the  history 
of  the  human  mind.  It  is  a  fact,  somewhat  difficult  of  expla- 
nation, that  the  refinement  of  the  ancient  nations  seemed  com- 
paratively devoid  of  an  elastic  and  expansive  principle.  With 
the  exception  of  the  colonies  in  Asia  Minor,  the  arts  of 
Greece  were  enchained  to  her  islands  and  her  coasts  ;  they 
did  not  penetrate  far  into  the  interior,  at  least  not  in  every 
direction.  The  language  and  literature  of  Athens  were  as 
much  unknown  to  the  north  of  Pindus,  at  a  distance  of  two 
hundred  miles  from  the  capital  of  Grecian  refinement,  as  they 
were  in  Scythia.  Thrace,  whose  mountain  tops  may  almost 
be  seen  from  the  porch  of  the  temple  of  Minerva,  at  Sunium, 
was  the  proverbial  abode  of  barbarism.  Though  the  colonies 
of  Greece  were  scattered  on  the  coasts  of  Asia,  of  Italy,  of 
France,  of  Spain,  and  of  Africa,  no  extension  of  their  popu- 
lation far  inward  took  place,  and  the  arts  did  not  penetrate 
beyond  the  walls  of  the  cities  where  they  were  cultivated. 

How  different  is  the  picture  of  the  diffusion  of  the  arts  and 


38  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

improvements  of  civilization,  from  the  coast  to  the  interior 
of  America !  Population  advances  westward  with  a  rapidity 
which  numbers  may  describe,  indeed,  but  cannot  represent, 
with  any  vivacity,  to  the  mind.  The  wilderness,  which  one 
year  is  impassable,  is  traversed,  the  next,  by  the  caravans  of 
industrious  emigrants,  carrying  with  them  the  language, 
the  institutions,  and  the  arts  of  civilized  life.  It  is  not  the 
irruption  of  wild  barbarians,  sent  to  visit  the  wrath  of  God 
on  a  degenerate  empire ;  it  is  not  the  inroad  of  disciplined 
banditti,  put  in  motion  by  reasons  of  state  or  court  intrigue.  It 
is  the  human  family,  led  out  by  Providence  to  possess  its  broad 
patrimony.  The  states  and  nations  which  are  springing  up 
in  the  valley  of  the  Missouri,  are  bound  to  us  by  the  dearest 
ties  of  a  common  language,  a  common  government,  and  a  com- 
mon descent.  Before  New  England  can  look  with  coldness 
on  their  rising  myriads,  she  must  forget  that  some  of  the  best 
of  her  own  blood  is  beating  in  their  veins ;  that  her  hardy 
children,  with  their  axes  on  their  shoulders,  have  been  among 
the  pioneers,  in  this  march  of  humanity  ;  that,  young  as  she 
is,  she  has  become  the  mother  of  populous  states.  What 
generous  mind  would  sacrifice  to  a  selfish  preservation  of 
local  preponderance  the  delight  of  beholding  civilized  nations 
rising  up  in  the  desert ;  and  the  language,  the  manners,  the 
principles  in  which  he  has  been  reared,  carried,  with  his 
household  gods,  to  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  ?  Who 
can  forget,  that  this  extension  of  our  territorial  limits  is  the 
extension  of  the  empire  of  all  we  hold  dear  ;  of  our  laws,  of 
our  character,  of  the  memory  of  our  ancestors,  of  the  great 
achievements  in  our  history  ?  Whithersoever  the  sons  of  the 
thirteen  states  shall  wander,  to  southern  or  western  climes, 
they  will  send  back  their  hearts  to  the  rocky  shores,  the  battle- 
fields, the  infant  settlements  of  the  Atlantic  coast.  These 
are  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  vicissitude.  They  have 
become  already  matter  of  history,  of  poetry,  of  eloquence. 

Divisions  may  spring  up,  ill  blood  may  burn,  parties  be 
formed,  and  interests  may  seem  to  clash  ;  but  the  great  bonds 
of  the  nation  are  linked  to  what  is  past.  The  deeds  of  the 
great  men,  to  whom  this  country  owes  its  origin  and  growth, 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  39 

are  a  patrimony,  I  know,  of  which  its  children  will  never 
deprive  themselves.  As  long  as  the  Mississippi  and  the  Mis- 
souri shall  flow,  those  men,  and  those  deeds,  will  be  remem- 
bered on  their  banks.  The  sceptre  of  government  may  go 
where  it  will ;  but  that  of  patriotic  feeling  can  never  depart 
from  Judah.  In  all  that  mighty  region  which  is  drained  by 
the  Missouri  and  its  tributary  streams,  —  the  valley  coexten- 
sive, in  this  country,  with  the  temperate  zone,  —  will  there 
be,  as  long  as  the  name  of  America  shall  last,  a  father  that 
will  not  take  his  children  on  his  knee,  and  recount  to  them 
the  events  of  the  twenty-second  of  December,  the  nineteenth 
of  April,  the  seventeenth  of  June,  and  the  fourth  of  July  ? 

This,  then,  is  the  theatre  on  which  the  intellect  of  America 
is  to  appear,  and  such  the  motives  to  its  exertion ;  such  the 
mass  to  be  influenced  by  its  energies ;  such  the  glory  to  crown 
its  success.  If  I  err  in  this  happy  vision  of  my  country's 
fortunes,  I  thank  Heaven  for  an  error  so  animating.  If  this 
be  false,  may  I  never  know  the  truth.  Never  may  you,  my 
friends,  be  under  any  other  feeling,  than  that  a  great,  a  grow- 
ing, an  immeasurably  expanding  country  is  calling  upon  you 
for  your  best  services.  The  name  and  character  of  our  Alma 
Mater  have  already  been  carried  by  some  of  our  brethren 
hundreds  of  miles  from  her  venerable  walls  ;  and  thousands 
of  miles  still  farther  westward,  the  communities  of  kindred 
men  are  fast  gathering,  whose  minds  and  hearts  will  act  in 
sympathy  with  yours. 

The  most  powerful  motives  call  on  us,  as  scholars,  for  those 
efforts  which  our  common  country  demands  of  all  her  chil- 
dren. Most  of  us  are  of  that  class  who  owe  whatever  of 
knowledge  has  shone  into  our  minds  to  the  free  and  popular 
institutions  of  our  native  land.  There  are  few  of  us  who 
may  not  be  permitted  to  boast,  that  we  have  been  reared  in 
an  honest  poverty,  or  a  frugal  competence,  and  owe  every 
thing  to  those  means  of  education  which  are  equally  open  to 
all.  We  are  summoned  to  new  energy  and  zeal,  by  the  high 
nature  of  the  experiment  we  are  appointed  in  providence  to 
make,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  theatre  on  which  it  is  to  be 
performed.  At  a  moment  of  deep  and  general  agitation  in 


40  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

the  Old  World,  it  pleased  Heaven  to  open  this  last  refuge  of 
humanity.  The  attempt  has  begun,  and  is  going  on,  far 
from  foreign  corruption,  on  the  broadest  scale,  and  under  the 
most  benignant  prospects  ; '  and  it  certainly  rests  with  us  to 
solve  the  great  problem  in  human  society ;  to  settle,  and  that 
forever,  the  momentous  question,  —  whether  mankind  can  be 
trusted  with  a  purely  popular  system  of  government. 

One  might  almost  think,  without  extravagance,  that  the 
departed  wise  and  good,  of  all  places  and  times,  are  looking 
down  from  their  happy  seats  to  witness  what  shall  now  be 
done  by  us  ;  that  they  who  lavished  their  treasures  and  their 
blood,  of  old,  who  spake  and  wrote,  who  labored,  fought,  and 
perished,  in  the  one  great  cause  of  Freedom  and  Truth,  are 
now  hanging  from  theip  orbs  on  high,  over  the  last  solemn 
experiment  of  humanity.  As  I  have  wandered  over  the  spots 
once  the  scene  of  their  labors,  and  mused  among  the  prostrate 
columns  of  their  senate  houses  and  forums,  I  have  seemed 
almost  to  hear  a  voice  from  the  tombs  of  departed  ages ;  from 
the  sepulchres  of  the  nations  which  died  before  the  sight. 
They  exhort  us,  they  adjure  us,  to  be  faithful  to  our  trust. 
They  implore  us  by  the  long  trials  of  struggling  humanity  ; 
by  the  blessed  memory  of  the  departed ;  by  the  dear  faith 
which  has  been  plighted,  by  pure  hands,  to  the  holy  cause  of 
truth  and  man ;  by  the  awful  secrets  of  the  prison  houses, 
where  the  sons  of  freedom  have  been  immured  ;  by  the  noble 
heads  which  have  been  brought  to  the  block  ;  by  the  wrecks 
of  time,  by  the  eloquent  ruins  of  nations,  they  conjure  us  not 
to  quench  the  light  which  is  rising  on  the  world.  Greece 
cries  to  us  by  the  convulsed  lips  of  her  poisoned,  dying 
Demosthenes ;  and  Rome  pleads  with  us  in  the  mute  persua- 
sion of  her  mangled  Tully.  They  address  us,  each  and  all, 
in  the  glorious  appeal  which  was  made  by  Milton  to  one  who 
might  have  canonized  his  memory  in  the  hearts  of  the  friends 
of  liberty,  but  who  did  most  shamefully  betray  the  cause  • 
"  Reverere  tantam  de  te  expectationem,  spern  patriae  de  te 
unicam.  Reverere  vultus  et  vulnera  tot  fortiurn  virorum, 
quotquot  pro  libertate  tarn  strenue.  decertamnt,  manes  etiam 
eorum  qui  in  ipso  certamine  occubuerunt.  Reverere  extera- 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  41 

rum  qtioque  civitatum  existimationem  de  te  atque  sermones ; 
quantas  res  de  libertate  nostra  tarn  fortiter  parta,  de  nostra 
republica  tarn  gloriose  exorta  sibi  polliceantur  ;  quae  si  tarn 
cito  quasi  aborta  evanuerit,  profecto  nihil  seque  dedecorosum 
huic  genti  atque  periculosum  fuerit."  * 

Yes,  my  friends,  such  is  the  exhortation  which  calls  on  us 
to  exert  our  powers,  to  employ  our  time,  and  consecrate  our 
labors,  for  the  honor  and  service  of  our  native  land.  When 
we  engage  in  that  solemn  study,  the  history  of  our  race ; 
surveying  the  progress  of  man,  from  his  cradle  in  the  East  to 
these  limits  of  his  wandering  ;  when  we  behold  him  forever 
flying  westward  from  civil  and  religious  thraldom,  over 
mountains  and  seas,  seeking  rest  and  finding  none,  but  still 
pursuing  the  flying  bow  of  promise  to  the  glittering  hills 
which  it  spans  in  Hesperian  climes ;  we  cannot  but  exclaim, 
with  Bishop  Berkeley,  the  generous  prelate,  who  bestowed  his 
benelactions,  as  well  as  blessings,  on  our  country,  — 

"Westward  the  course  of  Empire  takes  its  way; 

The  four  first  acts  already  past, 
A  fifth  shall  close  the  drama  with  the  day ; 
Time's  noblest  offspring  is  the  last." 

This  exclamation  is  but  the  embodiment  of  a  vision,  which 
the  ancients,  from  the  earliest  period,  cherished  of  some 
favored  land  beyond  the  mountains  or  the  seas ;  a  land  of 
equal  laws  and  happy  men.  The  primitive  poets  placed  it  in 
the  Islands  of  the  Blest ;  the  Doric  bards  dimly  beheld  it  in 
the  Hyperborean  region ;  the  mystical  sage  of  the  Academy 
found  it  in  his  lost  Atlantis ;  and  even  the  stern  spirit  of 
Seneca  dreamed  of  the  restoration  of  the  golden  age  in  dis- 
tant worlds,  hereafter  to  be  discovered.  Can  we  look  back 
upon  these  uninspired  predictions,  and  not  feel  the  weight  of 
obligation  which  they  imply  ?  Here  must  these  bright  fan- 
cies be  turned  into  truth ;  here  must  these  high  visions  be 
realized,  in  which  the  seers  and  sages  of  the  elder  world  took 
refuge  from  the  calamities  of  the  days  in  which  they  lived, 

*  Milton,  Defensio  Secunda. 
VOL.  I.  6 


42  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

There  are  no  more  continents  to  be  revealed ;  Atlantis  hath 
arisen  from  the  ocean ;  the  farthest  Thule  is  reached ;  there 
are  no  more  retreats  beyond  the  sea,  no  more  discoveries,  no 
more  hopes.* 

Here,  then,  a  mighty  work  is  to  be  performed,  or  never, 
by  mortals.  The  man  who  looks  with  tenderness  oft  the 
sufferings  of  good  men  in  other  times ;  the  descendant  of 
the  Pilgrims,  who  cherishes  the  memory  of  his  fathers ;  the 
patriot,  who  feels  an  honest  glow  at  the  majesty  of  the 
system  of  which  he  is  a  member ;  the  scholar,  who  beholds, 
with  rapture,  the  long-sealed  book  of  truth  opened  for  all  to 
read  without  prejudice ;  —  these  are  they,  by  whom  these 
auspices  are  to  be  accomplished.  Yes,  brethren,  it  is  by  the 
intellect  of  the  country  that  the  mighty  mass  is  to  be  in- 
spired ;  that  its  parts  are  to  communicate  and  sympathize 
with  each  other ;  its  natural  progress  to  be  adorned  with 
becoming  refinements ;  its  principles  asserted  'and  its  feel- 
ings interpreted  to  its  own  children,  to  other  regions,  and  to 
after  ages. 

Meantime,  the  years  are  rapidly  passing  away,  and  gathering 
importance  in  their  course.  With  the  present  year  [1824J 
will  be  completed  the  half  century  from  that  most  important 
era  in  human  history  —  the  commencement  of  our  revolu- 

*  "  Now  looking  anxiously  round  the  world  for  any  new  race,  which  may 
receive  the  seed  (so  to  speak)  of  our  present  history  into  a  kindly  yet  vig- 
orous soil,  and  may  reproduce  it,  the  same  and  yet  new,  for  a  future  period, 
we  know  not  where  such  are  to  be  found.  Some  appear  exhausted,  others 
incapable;  and  yet  the  surface  of  the  whole  globe  is  known  to  us.  The 
Roman  colonies  along  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  and  Danube  looked  out  on 
the  country  beyond  those  rivers,  as  we  look  up  at  the  stars,  and  actually  see 
with  our  eyes  a  world  of  which  we  know  nothing.  The  Romans  knew 
that  there  was  a  vast  portion  of  the  earth  which  they  did  not  know ;  how 
vast  it  might  be,  was  a  part  of  its  mysteries.  But  to  us,  all  is  explored ; 
imagination  can  hope  for  no  new  Atlantic  island  to  realize  the  vision  of 
Plato's  Critias  ;  no  new  continent,  peopled  by  youthful  races,  the  destined 
restorers  of  our  worn-out  generations.  Every  where  the  search  has  been 
made,  and  the  report  has  been  received  ;  we  have  the  full  amount  of  earth's 
resources  before  us,  and  they  seem  inadequate  to  supply  life  for  a  third 
period  of  human  history."  —  Dr  Arnold,  (Inaugural)  Lecture  on  Modern 
History.  (1840.) 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  43 

tionary  war.  The  jubilee  of  our  national  existence  is  at 
hand.  The  space  of  time  that  has  elapsed  since  that  mo- 
mentous date  has  laid  down  in  the  dust,  which  the  blood  of 
many  of  them  had  already  hallowed,  most  of  the  great 
men  to  whom,  under  Providence,  we  owe  our  national  exist- 
ence and  privileges.  A  few  still  survive  among  us,  to  reap 
the  rich  fruits  of  their  labors  and  sufferings ;  and  ONE  *  has 
yielded  himself  to  the  united  voice  of  a  people,  and  returned 
in  his  age  to  receive  the  gratitude  of  the  nation  to  whom  he 
devoted  his  youth.  It  is  recorded  on  the  pages  of  American 
history,  that  when  this  friend  of  our  country  applied  to  our 
commissioners  at  Paris,  in  1776,  for  a  passage  in  the  first  ship 
they  should  despatch  to  America,  they  were  obliged  to  answer 
him,  (so  low  and  abject  was  then  our  dear  native  land,)  that 
they  possessed  not  the  means,  nor  the  credit,  sufficient  for 
providing  a  single  vessel,  in  all  the  ports  of  France.  "  Then," 
exclaimed  the  youthful  hero,  "  I  will  provide  my  own."  And 
it  is  a  literal  fact  that,  when  all  America  was  too  poor  to  offer 
him  so  much  as  a  passage  to  her  shores,  he  left,  in  his  tender 
youth,  the  bosom  of  home,  of  domestic  happiness,  of  wealth, 
of  rank,  to  plunge  in  the  dust  and  blood  of  our  inauspicious 
struggle ! 

Welcome,  friend  of  our  fathers,  to  our  shores !  Happy 
are  our  eyes,  that  behold  those  venerable  features  !  Enjoy  a 
triumph  such  as  never  conqueror  nor  monarch  enjoyed  —  the 
assurance  that,  throughout  America,  there  is  not  a  bosom 
which  does  not  beat  with  joy  and  gratitude  at  the  sound  of 
your  name !  You  have  already  met  and  saluted,  or  will  soon 
meet,  the  few  that  remain  of  the  ardent  patriots,  prudent 
counsellors,  and  brave  warriors,  with  whom  you  were  asso- 
ciated in  achieving  our  liberty.  But  you  have  looked  round 
in  vain  for  the  faces  of  many,  who  would  have  lived  years 
of  pleasure,  on  a  day  like  this,  with  their  old  companion  in 
arms  and  brother  in  peril.  Lincoln,  and  Greene,  and  Knox, 
and  Hamilton,  are  gone  ;  the  heroes  of  Saratoga  and  York- 
town  have  fallen  before  the  enemy  that  conquers  all.  Above 

*  General  La  Fayette  was  present  at  the  delivery  of  this  Address. 


44  AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 

all,  the  first  of  heroes  and  of  men,  the  friend  of  your  youth, 
the  more  than  friend  of  his  country,  rests  in  the  bosom  of 
the  soil  he  redeemed.  On  the  banks  of  his  Potomac  he  lies 
in  glory  and  in  peace.  You  will  revisit  the  hospitable  shades 
of  Mount  Vernon,  but  him,  whom  you  venerated  as  we  did, 
you  will  not  meet  at  its  door.  His  voice  of  consolation, 
which  reached  you  in  the  dungeons  of  Olmiitz,  cannot  now 
break  its  silence  to  bid  you  welcome  to  his  own  roof.  But 
the  grateful  children  of  America  will  bid  you  welcome  in 
his  name.  Welcome !  thrice  welcome  to  our  shores !  and 
whithersoever  your  course  shall  take  you,  throughout  the 
limits  of  the  continent,  the  ear  that  hears  you  shall  bless 
you,  the  eye  that  sees  you  shall  give  witness  to  you,  and 
every  tongue  exclaim,  with  heartfelt  joy,  Welcome  !  welcome, 
La  Fayette  ! 


FIRST  SETTLEMENT  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.* 


AMIDST  all  the  proud  and  grateful  feelings  which  the  return 
of  this  anniversary  must  inspire  in  the  bosom  of  every  child 
of  New  England,  a  deep  solicitude  oppresses  me,  lest  I  should 
fail  in  doing  justice  to  the  men  and  to  the  events  which  we 
are  met  to  commemorate.  This  solicitude,  I  would  hope, 
is  no  mere  personal  feeling.  I  should  be  unworthy  to  address 
you  on  this  occasion,  could  I,  from  the  selfish  desire  of  win- 
ning your  applause,  devote  the  moments  of  this  consecrated 
day  to  any  cold  speculations,  however  ingenious  or  original. 
Gladly  would  I  give  utterance  to  the  most  familiar  common- 
places, could  I  be  so  happy  in  doing  it  as  to  excite  or 
strengthen  the  feelings  which  belong  to  the  time  and  the 
place.  Gladly  would  I  repeat  to  you  those  sentiments  which 
have  been  so  often  uttered  and  welcomed  on  this  anniver- 
sary ;  sentiments  whose  truth  does  not  change  in  the  change 
of  circumstances  ;  whose  power  does  not  wear  out  with  time. 
It  is  not  by  pompous  epithets  or  lively  antitheses  that  the 
exploits  of  the  Pilgrims  are  to  be  set  forth  by  their  children. 
We  can  only  do  this  worthily  by  repeating  the  plain  tale  of 
their  sufferings,  by  dwelling  on  the  circumstances  under  which 
their  memorable  enterprise  was  executed,  and  by  catching 
that  spirit  which  led  them  across  the  ocean,  and  guided  them 

*  Oration  delivered  at  Plymouth  on  the  22d  of  December,  1824.  The 
immediate  reference  in  this  discourse  is  to  the  settlement  of  New 
England,  as  commenced  at  Plymouth ;  but  some  of  the  views  contained  in 
it  are  equally  applicable  to  other  portions  of  the  United  States.  It  was 
not  thought  necessary,  in  each  particular  case,  to  interrupt  the  train  of 
remark  for  the  purpose  of  guarding  against  an  undue  limitation  or  exten- 
sion. 


46  FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

to  the  spot  where  we  stand.  We  need  no  voice  of  artificial 
rhetoric  to  celebrate  their  names.  The  bleak  and  deathlike 
desolation  of  Nature  proclaims  with  touching  eloquence  the 
fortitude  and  patience  of  the  meek  adventurers.  On  the 
bare  and  wintry  fields  around  us  their  exploits  are  written, 
in  characters  which  will  last,  and  tell  their  tale  to  posterity 
when  brass  and  marble  have  crumbled  into  dust. 

The  occasion  which  has  called  us  together  is  certainly  one 
to  which  few  parallels  exist  in  the  history  of  the  world. 
Other  countries  have  their  national  festivals.  They  com- 
memorate the  birthdays  of  their  illustrious  children;  they 
celebrate  the  foundation  of  important  institutions.  Momen- 
tous events,  victories,  reformations,  revolutions,  have  awakened 
in  all  countries,  on  their  anniversaries,  the  grateful  and  patri- 
otic feelings  of  posterity.  But  we  commemorate  the  birth- 
day of  all  New  England  ;  the  foundation,  not  of  one  institu- 
tion, but  of  all  the  institutions,  the  settlements,  the  societies, 
the  improvements,  here  or  elsewhere,  which  trace  their 
descent  to  a  New  England  origin. 

Were  it  only  as  an  act  of  rare  adventure,  were  it  a  trait  in 
foreign  or  ancient  history,  we  should  fix  upon  the  achieve- 
ment of  our  fathers  as  one  of  the  noblest  deeds  in  the  annals 
of  the  world.  Were  we  attracted  to  it  by  no  other  principle 
than  that  sympathy  we  feel  in  all  the  fortunes  of  our  race,  it 
could  lose  nothing,  it  must  gain,  in  the  contrast,  with  what- 
ever history  or  tradition  has  preserved  to  us  of  the  wanderings 
and  settlements  of  the  tribes  of  man.  A  continent,  for  the 
first  time,  effectually  explored  ;  a  vast  ocean,  traversed  by 
men,  women,  and  children,  voluntarily  exiling  themselves 
from  the  fairest  portions  of  the  Old  World ;  and  a  great  nation 
grown  up.  in  the  space  of  two  centuries,  on  the  foundations 
so  perilously  laid  by  this  feeble  band  —  point  me  to  the  rec- 
ord or  to  the  tradition  of  any  thing  that  can  enter  into  com- 
petition with  it !  It  is  the  language,  not  of  exaggeration,  but 
of  truth  and  soberness,  to  say  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
accounts  of  Phoenician,  of  Grecian,  or  of  Roman  coloniza- 
tion, that  can  stand  in  the  comparison. 

What  new  importance,  then,  does  not   the  achievement 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.          47 

acquire  for  us,  when  we  consider  that  it  was  the  deed  of  our 
fathers  ;  that  this  grand  undertaking  was  accomplished  on  the 
spot  where  we  dwell ;  that  the  mighty  region  they  explored 
is  our  native  land  ;  that  the  unrivalled  enterprise  they  dis- 
played is  not  merely  a  fact  proposed  to  our  admiration,  but 
is  the  source  of  our  being  ;  that  their  cruel  hardships  are  the 
spring  of  our  prosperity  ;  that  their  weary  banishment  gave 
us  a  home  ;  that  to  their  separation  from  every  thing  which 
is  dear  and  pleasant  in  life  we  owe  all  the  comforts,  the 
blessings,  the  privileges,  which  make  our  lot  the  envy  of 
mankind  ! 

These  are  the  well-known  titles  of  our  ancestors  to  our 
gratitude  and  veneration. 

But  there  seems  to  me  this  peculiarity  in  the  nature  of  their 
enterprise,  that  its  grand  and  beneficent  consequences  are, 
with  the  lapse  of  time,  constantly  unfolding  themselves,  in 
an  extent,  and  to  a  magnitude,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  most 
sanguine  promise.  Successful,  indeed,  in  its  outset,  —  it  has 
been  more  and  more  successful,  at  every  subsequent  point, 
in  the  line  of  time.  Accomplishing  all  they  projected,  — 
what  they  projected  was  the  least  part  of  what  has  come  to 
pass.  Forming  a  design,  in  itself  grand  bold,  and  even 
appalling,  for  the  risks  and  sacrifices  it  required,  —  the  fulfil- 
ment of  that  design  is  the  least  thing,  which,  in  the  steady 
progress  of  events,  has  flowed  from  their  counsels  and  their 
efforts.  Did  they  propose  to  themselves  a  refuge,  beyond  the 
sea,  from  the  religious  and  political  tyranny  of  Europe  ? 
They  achieved  not  that  alone,  but  they  have  opened  a  wide 
asylum  to  all  the  victims  of  oppression  throughout  the  world. 
We  ourselves  have  seen  the  statesmen,  the  generals,  the 
kings  of  the  elder  world  flying  for  protection  to  our  shores. 
Did  they  look  for  a  retired  spot,  inoffensive  for  its  obscurity, 
and  safe  in  its  remoteness,  where  the  little  church  of  Leyden 
might  enjoy  the  freedom  of  conscience  ?  Behold  the  mighty 
regions,  over  which,  in  peaceful  conquest,  — victoria  sine 
clade,  —  they  have  borne  the  banners  of  the  cross !  Did  they 
seek,  under  the  common  franchise  of  a  trading  charter,  to  pros- 
ecute a  frugal  commerce,  in  reimbursement  of  the  expenses 


48          FIKST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

of  their  humble  establishment?  The  fleets  and  navies  of 
their  descendants  are  on  the  farthest  ocean ;  and  the  wealth 
of  the  Indies  is  now  wafted,  with  every  tide,  to  the  coasts 
where,  with  hook  and  line,  they  painfully  gathered  up  their 
frugal  earnings.  In  short,  did  they,  in  their  brightest  and 
most  sanguine  moments,  contemplate  a  thrifty,  loyal,  and 
prosperous  colony,  portioned  off,  like  a  younger  son  of  the 
imperial  household,  to  an  humble  and  dutiful  distance? 
Behold  the  spectacle  of  an  independent  and  powerful  republic, 
founded  on  the  shores  where  some  of  those  are  but  Lately 
deceased  who  saw  the  first-born  of  the  Pilgrims ! 

And  shall  we  stop  here  ?  Is  the  tale  now  told  ?  Is  the 
contrast  now  complete  ?  Are  our  destinies  all  fulfilled  ?  My 
friends,  we  are  in  the  very  morning  of  our  days ;  our  num- 
bers are  but  a  unit ;  our  national  resources  but  a  pittance ; 
our  hopeful  achievements  in  the  political,  the  social,  and  the 
intellectual  nature,  are  but  the  rudiments  of  what  the  children 
of  the  Pilgrims  must  yet  attain.  If  there  is  any  thing  certain 
in  the  principles  of  human  and  social  progress ;  if  there  is 
any  thing  clear  in  the  deductions  from  the  history  of  the  past ; 
if  there  is  any,  the  least,  reliance  to  be  placed  on  the  conclu- 
sions of  reason,  in  regard  to  the  nature  of  man,  —  the  existing 
spectacle  of  our  country's  growth,  magnificent  as  it  is,  does  not 
suggest  even  an  idea  of  what  it  must  be.  I  dare  adventure  the 
prediction,  that  he  who,  two  centuries  hence,  shall  stand 
where  I  stand,  and  look  back  on  our  present  condition,  wiF 
sketch  a  contrast  far  more  astonishing  ;  and  will  speak  of  our 
times  as  the  day  of  small  things,  in  stronger  and  juster  lan- 
guage than  any  in  which  we  can  depict  the  poverty  and 
wants  of  our  fathers. 

But  we  ought  to  consecrate  this  day  to  the  memory  of  the 
Pilgrims.  The  twenty-second  of  December  belongs  to  them  ; 
and  I  shall  hope  to  have  contributed  my  mite  towards  our 
happy  celebration,  if  I  can  succeed  in  pointing  out  a  few  of 
those  circumstances  of  the  first  emigration  to  our  country, 
and  particularly  of  the  first  emigration  to  New  England,  from 
which,  under  a  kind  Providence,  has  flowed,  not  only  the 
immediate  success  of  the  undertaking,  but  the  astonishing 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.         49 

train   of  consequences    auspicious  to  the  cause   of  liberty, 
humanity,  and  truth. 

I.  When  the  first  settlements  were  made  upon  the  coasts 
of  America  by  Europeans,  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  must 
have  been  much  more  formidable,  to  all  except  seafaring 
people  by  profession,  than  it  is  at  the  present  day.  Persons, 
like  most  of  those  who  composed  the  company  of  the  May- 
flower, no  doubt  regarded  with  natural  terror  the  passage  of 
the  mighty  deep.  Navigation,  notwithstanding  the  great 
advances  which  it  had  made  in  the  sixteenth  century,  was 
yet,  comparatively  speaking,  in  its  infancy.  The  very  fact 
that  voyages  of  great  length  and  hazard  were  successfully 
attempted  in  very  small  vessels,  (a  fact  which,  on  first  view, 
might  seem  to  show  a  high  degree  of  perfection  in  the  art,) 
in  reality  proves  that  it  was  as  yet  but  imperfectly  understood. 
That  the  great  Columbus  should  put  to  sea,  for  the  discovery 
of  a  new  passage  across  the  Western  Ocean  to  India,  with  two 
out  of  three  vessels  unprovided  with  decks,  may,  indeed,  be 
considered  the  effect,  not  of  ignorance  of  the  art  of  naviga- 
tion, but  of  bitter  necessity.*  Sir  Francis  Drake,  near  a 
hundred  years  afterwards,  the  first  naval  commander  who  ever 
sailed  round  the  earth,  enjoying  the  advantage  of  the  royal 
patronage,  and  of  no  little  personal  experience,  embarked  on 
his  voyage  of  circumnavigation  with  five  vessels,  of  which 
the  largest  was  of  one  hundred,  and  the  smallest ,  of  fifteen 
tons.f  This  fact  must  be  regarded  as  proof  that  the  art  of 

*  "  Ex  regio  fisco  destinata  sunt  tria  navigia  ;  unum  onerarium  caveatum, 
alia  duo  levia  mercatoria  sine  caveis,  quse  ab  Hispanis  caravelse  vocantnr." 
Peter  Martyr  de  rebus  oceanicis.  p.  2. 

f  The  great  extent  to  which  the  fishing  business  was  very  early  carried, 
on  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland  and  the  New  England  coasts,  must  have 
familiarized  men  with  the  idea  of  a  passage  across  the  Atlantic,  and  thus 
have  been  one  cause  of  the  readiness  of  so  many  persons  to  undertake  the 
voyage.  It  appears  that,  as  early  as  1578,  there  were  employed,  in  this 
fishery,  of  Spaniards,  100  sail,  besides  20  or  30  in  the  whale  fishery  on  the 
same  coasts ;  of  Portuguese,  50  ;  of  French,  150 ;  of  English,  from  30  to 
50. — Hakluyt,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  132,  cited  in  North  American  Review  for  July, 
1824,  p.  140. — Captain  Smith  remarks  that  according  to  Whitbourne's  "  Dis- 
covery of  Newfoundland,"  the  banks  and  coasts  of  that  region  were  visited 
by  250  sail  of  English  fishermen  annually. — Vol.  II.  p.  246,  Richmond  edition. 
VOL.  I.  7 


50         FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

navigation,  in  the  generation  preceding  our  ancestors,  had  not 
reached  that  point  where  the  skilful  adaptation  of  means  to 
ends  supersedes  the  necessity  of  extraordinary  intrepidity, 
aided  by  not  less  extraordinary  good  fortune.  It  was,  there- 
fore, the  first  obstacle  which  presented  itself  to  the  project  of 
the  Pilgrims,  that  it  was  to  be  carried  into  execution  across 
the  ocean  which  separates  our  continent  from  the  rest  of  the 
world.  Notwithstanding,  however,  this  circumstance,  and 
the  natural  effect  it  must  have  had  on  their  minds,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  it  is  one  of  those  features  in  our  natural  situation, 
10  which  America  is  indebted,  not  merely  for  the  immediate 
success  of  the  enterprise  of  settlement,  but  for  much  of  its 
subsequent  prosperity. 

The  rest  of  the  world,  though  nominally  divided  into 
three  continents,  in  reality  consists  of  but  one.  Europe, 
Asia,  and  Africa  are  separated  by  no  natural  barriers  which 
it  has  not  been  easy,  in  every  age,  for  an  ambitious  invader 
to  pass.  The  consequence  has  been,  on  the  whole,  unfavor- 
able to  social  progress.  The  extent  of  country  inhabited,  or 
rather  infested,  by  barbarous  tribes,  has  always  far  outweighed 
the  civilized  portions.  More  than  once,  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  refinement,  learning,  arts,  laws,  and  religion,  with  the 
wealth  and  prosperity  they  have  created,  have  been  utterly 
swept  away,  and  the  hands  moved  back  on  the  dial-plate  of 
time,  in  consequence  of  the  irruption  of  savage  hordes  into 
civilized  regions.  Were  the  early  annals  of  the  East  as 
amply  preserved  as  those  of  the  Roman  empire,  they  would, 
probably,  furnish  us  with  accounts  of  revolutions  on  the  Nile 
and  the  Euphrates  as  disastrous  as  those,  by  which  the  civil- 
ized world  was  shaken  in  the  first  centuries  of  the  Christian 
era.  Till  an  ocean  interposes  its  mighty  barrier,  no  region  is 
secure  from  foreign  violence.  The  magnificent  temples  of 
Egypt  were  demolished,  in  the  sixth  century  before  our 
Savior,  by  the  hordes  which  Cambyses  had  collected  from 

The  information  contained  in  this  treatise  must  have  been  very  widely  dif- 
fused, for  by  an  order  of  council  of  12th  April,  1622,  it  was  ordered  to  be 
distributed  to  every  parish  in  the  kingdom. — Ancient,  Right  of  the  English 
Nation  to  the  American  Fisheries,  &c.  London,  (1764.) 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    MEW    ENGLAND.  5] 

the  steppes  of  Central  Asia.  The  vineyards  of  Burgundy 
were  wasted,  in  the  third  century  of  our  era,  by  roving 
savages  from  beyond  Caucasus.  In  the  eleventh  century, 
Gengis  Khan  and  his  Tartars  swept  Europe  and  Asia,  from 
the  Baltic  to  the  China  Sea.  And  Ionia  and  Attica,  the 
gardens  of  Greece,  are  still,  under  the  eyes  of  the  leading 
Christian  powers  of  Europe,  beset  by  remorseless  barbarians, 
whose  fathers  issued,  a  few  centuries  ago,  from  the  Altai 
Mountains. 

Nor  is  it  the  barbarians  alone  who  have  been  tempted,  by 
this  facility  of  communication,  to  a  career  of  conquest  and 
plunder.  The  Alexanders  and  the  Caesars,  the  Charlemagnes 
and  the  Napoleons,  the  founders  of  great  empires,  the  aspirers 
to  universal  monarchy,  have  been  enabled  in  no  small  degree, 
by  the  same  circumstance,  to  turn  the  annals  of  mankind  into 
a  tale  of  war  and  misery.  When  we  descend  to  the  scrutiny 
of  single  events,  we  find  that  the  nations  who  have  most 
frequently  and  most  immediately  suffered  have  been  those 
most  easily  approached  and  overrun  ;  and  that  those  who 
have  longest  and  most  uniformly  maintained  their  independ- 
ence have  done  it  by  virtue  of  lofty  mountains,  wide  rivers, 
or  the  surrounding  sea. 

In  this  state  of  things,  the  three  united  continents  of  the 
Old  World  do  not  contain  a  single  spot  where  any  grand 
scheme  of  human  improvement  could  be  attempted,  with  a 
prospect  of  fair  experiment  and  full  success,  because  there  is 
no  spot  safe  from  foreign  interference  ;  and  no  member  of  the 
general  system  so  insignificant,  that  his  motions  are  not 
watched  with  jealousy  by  all  the  rest.  The  welfare  and 
progress  of  man,  in  the  most  favored  region,  instead  of  pro- 
ceeding in  a  free  and  natural  course,  dependent  on  the  organ- 
ization and  condition  of  that  region  alone,  can  only  reach  the 
point  which  may  be  practicable  in  the  general  result  of  an 
immensely  complicated  system,  made  up  of  a  thousand  jarring 
members. 

The  continent  of  America  accordingly  opened,  at  the  time 
of  its  first  settlement,  and  still  opens,  a  new  theatre  of  human 
development.  Notwithstanding  the  prodigious  extent  of 


52          FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

commercial  intercourse,  and  the  wide  grasp  of  naval  power, 
among  modern  states,  and  their  partial  effect  in  bringing  us 
into  the  political  system  of  Europe,  we  are  yet  essentially 
strangers  to  it ;  placed  at  a  distance  which  retards,  and  for 
every  injurious  purpose  neutralizes,  all  peaceful  communica- 
tion, and  defies  all  hostile  approach.  To  this  it  was  owing 
that  so  little  was  here  felt  of  the  convulsions  of  the  civil 
wars  which  followed  in  England,  soon  after  the  emigration 
of  our  fathers.  To  this,  in  a  more  general  view,  we  are 
indebted  for  our  steady  colonial  growth,  our  establishment  of 
independence,  and  our  escape  amidst  the  political  storms 
which,  during  the  last  thirty  years,  have  shaken  the  empires 
of  the  earth.  To  this  we  shall  still  be  indebted,  and  more 
and  more  with  the  progress  of  our  country,  for  the  originality 
and  stability  of  national  character.  Hitherto,  the  political 
effects  of  our  seclusion  behind  the  mighty  veil  of  waters  have 
been  the  most  important.  Now  that  our  political  foundations 
are  firmly  laid  ;  that  the  work  of  settlement,  of  colonization, 
of  independence,  and  of  union,  is  all  done,  and  happily  done  ; 
we  shall  reap  in  other  forms  the  salutary  fruits  of  our  remote- 
ness from  the  centres  of  foreign  opinion  and  feeling. 

I  say  not  this  in  disparagement  of  foreign  states :  their 
institutions  are  doubtless  as  good,  in  many  cases,  as  the  con- 
dition of  things  now  admits  ;  or,  when  at  the  worst,  could 
not  be  remedied  by  any  one  generation  of  men.  But,  with- 
out disparaging  foreign  governments,  we  may  be  allowed  to 
prefer  our  own  ;  to  assert  their  excellence,  to  seek  to  main- 
tain them  on  their  original  foundations  and  on  their  true 
principles.  That  great  word  Independence,  which,  if  first 
uttered  in  1776,  was  most  auspiciously  anticipated  in  1620, 
comprehends  much  more  than  a  mere  absence  of  foreign 
jurisdiction.  I  could  almost  say,  that,  if  it  rested  there,  it 
would  scarcely  be  worth  asserting.  In  every  noble,  in  every 
true  acceptation,  it  implies,  not  merely  an  American  govern- 
ment, but  an  American  character  and  an  American  feeling. 
To  the  formation  of  these,  nothing  will  more  powerfully 
contribute  than  our  geographical  separation  from  other  parts  of 
the  world. 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.  53 

111  these  views,  there  is  nothing  unsocial ;  nothing  hostile 
to  a  friendly  and  improving  connection  of  distant  regions 
with  each  other,  or  to  the  profitable  interchange  of  the  com- 
modities which  a  bountiful  Providence  has  variously  scattered 
over  the  earth.  For  these  and  all  other  desirable  ends,  the 
perfection  to  which  the  art  of  navigation  is  brought  affords 
abundant  means  of  conquering  the  obstacles  of  distance.  At 
this  moment,  the  trade  of  America  has  penetrated  to  the 
interior  of  Asia  Minor,  the  plains  of  Tartary,  the  centre  of 
Hindostan  and  China,  and  the  remotest  islands  of  the  Indian 
Ocean.  While  ambition  and  policy,  by  intrigue  and  blood- 
shed, are  contesting  the  possession  of  a  few  square  miles  of 
territory,  our  peaceful  commerce  has  silently  extended  its 
jurisdiction  from  sea  to  sea,  from  continent  to  continent,  till 
it  holds  the  giooe  in  its  grasp. 

But,  while  no  one  can  doubt  the  mutual  advantages  of  a 
judiciously  conducted  commerce,  or  be  insensible  of  the  good 
which  has  resulted  to  the  cause  of  humanity  from  the  culti- 
vation of  a  peaceful  and  friendly  intercourse  with  other 
lands,  it  is  yet  beyond  question,  that  the  true  principle  of 
American  policy,  to  which  the  whole  spirit  of  our  system, 
not  less  than  the  geographical  features  of  the  country,  invites 
us,  is  separation  from  Europe.  Next  to  UNION  AT  HOME, 
which  ought  to  be  called,  not  so  much  the  essential  condition 
of  our  national  existence  as  our  existence  itself,  separation 
from  all  other  countries  is  the  great  principle  by  which  we 
are  to  prosper.  It  is  toward  this  that  our  efforts,  public  and 
private,  ought  to  tend ;  and  we  shall  rise  or  decline  in 
strength,  improvement,  and  prosperity,  as  we  obey  or  violate 
this  principle.  This  is  the  voice  of  Nature,  which  did  not  in 
vain  disjoin  our  continent  from  the  Old  World  :  nor  reserve  it 
beyond  the  ocean,  for  fifty  centuries,  only  that  it  might 
become  a  common  receptacle  for  the  exploded  principles,  the 
degenerate  examples,  and  the  remediless  corruptions  of  older 
states.  This  is  the  voice  of  our  history,  which  traces  every 
thing  excellent  in  our  character  and  prosperous  in  our  for- 
tunes to  dissent,  non-conformity,  departure,  resistance,  and 
independence. 


54  FIKST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW  ENGLAND. 

And  it  is  a  matter  of  sincere  congratulation,  that,  under  the 
healthy  operation  of  natural  causes,  very  partially  accelerated 
by  legislation,  the  current  of  our  pursuits  and  industry,  with- 
out deserting  its  former  channels,  is  throwing  a  broad  and 
swelling  branch  into  the  interior.  Foreign  commerce,  the 
natural  employment  of  an  enterprising  people,  whose  popula- 
tion is  accumulated  on  the  sea-coast,  and  whose  neutral 
services  were  invited  by  a  world  in  arms,  is  daily  reverting 
to  a  condition  of  more  equal  participation  among  the  various 
maritime  states,  and  is,  in  consequence,  becoming  less  produc- 
tive to  any  one.  While  America  remains,  and  will  always 
remain,  among  the  foremost  commercial  and  naval  states,  an 
ample  portion  of  our  resources  has  already  taken  a  new 
direction.  We  profited  of  the  dissensions  of  Europe,  which 
threw  her  carrying-trade  into  our  hands.  We  are  now  profit- 
ing of  the  pacification  of  Europe,  in  the  application  to  our 
own  soil,  our  own  mineral  and  vegetable  products,  our  water- 
courses, and  our  general  internal  resources,  of  a  part  of  the 
capital  thus  accumulated. 

This  circumstance  is,  in  a  general  view,  most  gratifying, 
inasmuch  as  it  creates  a  new  bond  of  mutual  dependence  in 
the  variety  of  our  natural  gifts,  and  in  the  mutual  benefits 
rendered  each  other  by  the  several  sectional  interests  of  the 
country.  The  progress  is  likely  to  be  permanent  and  sure, 
because  it  has  been  mainly  brought  about  in  the  natural  order 
of  things,  and  with  little  legislative  interference.  Within  a 
few  years,  what  a  happy  change  has  taken  place  !  The 
substantial  clothing  of  our  industrious  classes  is  now  the 
growth  of  the  American  soil,  and  the  texture  of  the  American 
loom ;  the  music  of  the  water-wheel  is  heard  on  the  banks 
of  our  thousand  rural  streams ;  and  enterprise  and  skill,  with 
wealth,  refinement,  and  prosperity  in  their  train,  having 
studded  the  sea-shore  with  populous  cities,  are  making  their 
great  "  progress  "  of  improvement  through  the  interior,  and 
sowing  towns  and  villages,  as  it  were,  broadcast  through  the 
country ! 

II.  If  OUT  remote  position  be  so  important  among  the 
circumstances  which  favored  the  enterprise  of  our  fathers, 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND  55 

and  have  favored  the  growth  of  the  settlements  founded  by 
them,  scarcely  less  so  was  the  point  of  time  at  which  those 
settlements  were  commenced. 

When  we  cast  our  eyes  over  the  annals  of  our  race,  we 
find  them  to  be  filled  with  a  tale  of  various  fortunes  —  the 
rise  and  fall  of  nations ;  periods  of  light  and  darkness ;  of 
great  illumination  and  of  utter  obscurity  ;  and  of  all  inter- 
mediate degrees  of  intelligence,  cultivation,  and  liberty.  But 
in  the  seeming  confusion  of  the  narrative,  our  attention  is 
arrested  by  three  more  conspicuous  eras,  at  unequal  distances 
in  the  lapse  of  ages. 

In  Egypt  we  still  behold,  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  the 
monuments  of  an  improved  age  —  a  period,  no  doubt,  of 
high  cultivation  and  of  great  promise.  Beneath  the  influ- 
ence of  causes  which  are  lost  in  the  depth  of  antiquity,  but 
which  are  doubtless  connected  with  the  debasing  supersti- 
tions and  political  despotism  which  prevailed  in  that  country, 
this  period  passed  away,  and  left  scarce  a  trace  of  its  exist- 
ence, beyond  the  stupendous  and  mysterious  structures  — 
the  temples,  the  obelisks,  and  the  pyramids  —  which  yet  bear 
witness  to  an  age  of  great  power  and  cultivated  art,  and  mock 
the  curiosity  of  mankind  by  the  records  inscrutably  carved 
on  their  surfaces.* 

Passing  over  an  interval  of  about  one  thousand  years,  we 
reach  the  second  epoch  of  light  and  promise.  With  the 
progress  of  freedom  in  Greece,  that  of  the  mind  kept  pace  ; 
and  an  age  of  achievement  in  almost  every  branch  of  human 
art  succeeded,  of  which  the  influence  is  still  felt  in  the  world. 
But  the  greater  part  of  mankind  were  too  barbarous  to 
improve  by  the  example  of  this  favored  corner ;  and  though 
the  influence  of  its  arts,  letters,  and  civilization  was  wonder- 
fully extensive  and  durable ;  though  it  seemed  to  revive  at 
the  court  of  the  Roman  Caesars,  and  still  later  at  that  of  the 
Arabian  caliphs  ;  yet,  not  resting  on  those  popular  institutions 
and  popular  principles  which  can  alone  be  permanent,  because 

*  This  remark  was  made  before  the  successful  attempts  of  Dr.  Young 
and  M.  Champollion  to  decipher  the  Egyptian  hieroglyphics. 


56  FIKST    SETTLEMENT    0*    NEW    ENGLAND. 

alone  natural,  it  slowly  died  away,  and  Europe  and  the  world 
relapsed  into  barbarity. 

The  third  great  era  of  our  race  is  the  close  of  the  fifteenth 
century.  The  use  of  the  mariner's  compass  and  the  inven- 
tion of  the  art  of  printing  had  furnished  the  modern  world 
with  two  engines  of  improvement  and  civilization,  either  of 
which  was  far  more  efficacious  than  all,  united,  known  to 
antiquity.  The  Reformation,  also,  about  this  time,  disen- 
gaged Christianity,  itself  one  of  the  most  powerful  instru- 
ments of  civilization,  from  those  abuses  which  had  hitherto 
greatly  impaired  its  beneficent  influence  on  temporal  affairs  ; 
and  at  this  most  chosen  moment  in  the  annals  of  the  world, 
America  was  discovered. 

It  would  not  be  difficult,  by  pursuing  this  analysis,  to  show 
that  the  precise  period,  when  the  settlement  of  our  coasts 
began,  was  peculiarly  auspicious  to  the  foundation  of  a  new 
and  hopeful  system. 

Religious  reformation  was  the  original  principle  which 
kindled  the  zeal  of  our  Pilgrim  fathers;  as  it  has  been  so 
often  acknowledged  to  be  the  master  principle  of  the  greatest 
movements  in  the  modern  world.*  The  religions  of  Greece 
and  Rome  were  portions  of  the  political  systems  of  these 
countries.  The  Scipios,  the  Crassuses,  and  Julius  Caesar 
himself,  were  high  priests.  It  was,  doubtless,  owing  in  part 
to  this  example,  that,  at  an  early  period  after  the  first  intro- 
duction of  Christianity,  the  heads  of  the  church  so  entirely 
mistook  the  spirit  of  this  religion,  that,  in  imitation  of  the 
splendid  idolatry  which  was  passing  away,  they  aimed  at  a 
new  combination  of  church  and  state,  which  received  but 
too  much  countenance  from  the  policy  of  Constantine.  This 
abuse,  with  ever  multiplying  and  aggravated  calamitous  con- 

*  "  From  the  commencement  of  the  religious  war  in  Germany  to  the 
peace  of  Westphalia,  scarce  any  thing  great  or  memorable  occurred  in  the 
European  political  world,  with  which  the  Reformation  was  not  essentially 
connected.  Every  event  in  the  history  of  the  world,  in  this  interval,  if  not 
directly  occasioned,  was  nearly  affected  by  this  religious  revolution ;  and 
every  state,  great  or  small,  remotely  or  immediately  felt  its  influence."  - 
Schiller,  Geschichte  des  Dreissigjdhrigen  Krieges,  Vol.  I.  p.  1. 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.  5? 

sequences,  endured  without  any  effectual  check  till  the  first 
blow  was  aimed  at  the  supremacy  of  the  papal  power  by 
Philip  the  Fair  of  France,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  who 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  liberties  of  the  French  Church  by 
what  may  be  called  the  Gallican  Reformation. 

After  an  interval  of  two  hundred  years,  this  example  was 
followed  and  improved  upon  by  the  princes  in  Germany  who 
espoused  the  Protestant  Reformation  of  Luther,  and  in  a  still 
more  decisive  manner  by  Henry  the  Eighth  in  England ;  at 
which  period  we  may  accordingly  date  the  second  great  step 
in  the  march  of  religious  liberty. 

Much  more,  however,  was  yet  to  be  effected  toward  the 
dissolution  of  the  political  bond  between  church  and  state. 
Hitherto,  a  domestic  was  substituted  for  a  foreign  yoke,  and 
the  rights  of  private  conscience  had,  perhaps,  gained  but 
little  in  the  exchange.  In  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  among  the  exiles  whom  the  tyranny  of  Q,ueen 
Mary  had  driven  to  the  free  cities  on  the  Rhine,  the  ever- 
memorable  sect  of  Puritans  arose.  On  their  return  to  Eng- 
land, in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  their  dislike  to  the 
ceremonial  of  the  Church  of  England  gained  strength  and 
intensity  by  the  compulsory  means  employed  to  establish 
conformity. 

Nearly  as  we  have  now  reached,  both  in  simplicity  of 
principle  and  point  of  time,  to  our  Pilgrim  forefathers,  there 
is  one  more  purifying  process  to  go  through,  and  one  more 
generation  to  pass  away.  The  major  part  of  the  non-con- 
formists themselves,  while  they  rejected  the  ceremonies  and 
disliked  the  organization  of  the  Church  of  England,  approved, 
in  substance,  the  constitution  of  the  Genevan  Church,  and 
their  descendants  were  willing,  a  century  later,  to  accept  of  a 
legal  establishment  in  Scotland. 

It  remained,  therefore,  to  take  the  last  step  in  the  progress 
of  reform,  by  asserting  the  independence  of  each  single  church. 
This  principle  may  be  considered  as  firmly  established  from 
the  time  of  John  Robinson,  who  may  be  called  the  father  of 
the  Independent  Churches.  His  own,  at  Leyden,  was  the 
chief  of  these  ;  and  fidelity  to  their  principles  was  the  motive 
VOL,  i.  8 


58  FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

of  their  departure  from  Holland,  and  the  occasion  of  their 
settlement  at  Plymouth.* 

On  these,  as  on  most  questions  of  religious  opinion,  the 
judgments  of  men  differ,  for  the  most  part,  according  to  the 
associations  in  which  they  have  been  educated.  Few,  how- 
ever, will  dissent  from  the  proposition,  that  the  early  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century  was  a  great  era  of  movement  and 
progress  in  every  thing  that  concerns  civil  and  religious 
liberty.  It  was  the  age  when  the  discoveries  of  the  Spanish, 
Portuguese,  and  English  navigators  had  begun  to  exert  a 
stimulating  influence  on  the  world  at  large  ;  and  the  old 
continent  and  the  new,  like  the  magnetic  poles,  commenced 
those  momentous  processes  of  attraction  and  repulsion,  from 
which  so  much  of  the  activity  of  both  has  since  proceeded. 
It  was  the  period  when  the  circulation  of  knowledge  had 
become  general ;  and  books,  in  all  languages,  were  in  the 
hands  of  a  very  large  class,  in  every  country.  The  history 
of  Europe,  in  all  its  states,  shows  the  extent  and  vehemence 
of  the  consequent  fermentation.  With  their  new  engines  of 
improvement  and  new  principles  of  right,  the  communities  of 
men  rushed  forward  in  the  course  of  reform  ;  some  with 
firmness  and  vigor,  proportioned  to  the  greatness  of  the 
object  in  view  ;  most  with  tumult  and  desperation,  propor- 
tioned to  the  duration  and  magnitude  of  their  injuries  ;  and 
none  with  entire  success.  The  most  that  was  effected,  in 
the  most  fortunate  states,  was  a  compromise  between  the  new 
claims  and  the  old  abuses.  Absolute  kings  stipulated  to  be 
no  longer  absolute  ;  and  free  citizens  preferred  what  they 
called  petitions  of  right.  In  this  way,  and  after  infinite 
struggles,  a  tolerable  foundation  for  practical  liberty  was  laid 
on  two  principles,  in  the  abstract  false,  as  principles  of  gov- 

*  In  1619,  Robinson  published,  at  Leyden,  his  "Apologia  pro  exulibus 
Anglis  qui  Brownistae  vulgo  appellantur."  It  has  been  conjectured,  that 
the  name  of  Independents  may  have  grown  out  of  a  word  in  the  following 
sentence,  in  which  the  leading  principle  of  their  religious  peculiarities  is 
expressed :  "  Ccetum  quemlibet  particularem  esse  totam,  integram,  et 
perfectam  ecclesiam,  ex  suis  partibus  constantem,  immediate  et  inde- 
vendenter  (quoad  alias  ecclesias)  sub  ipso  Christo."  —  Apologia,  Cap.  V.  p.  22, 
cited  in  Mosheim's  Ecclesiast  Hist  Vol.  V.  p.  388. 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.  59 

ernment  —  that  of  acquiescence  on  the  part  of  the  sovereign, 
and  prescription  in  favor  of  the  people.  So  firmly  established 
are  these  principles,  by  consent  of  the  statesmen  of  the  freest 
country  in  Europe,  as  the  best  and  only  foundation  of  civil 
rights,  that,  so  late  as  the  last  years  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, a  work  of  great  ingenuity  and  eloquence  was  written  by 
Mr  Burke,  to  prove  that  the  people  of  England  have  not  a 
right  to  appoint  and  to  remove  their  rulers ;  and  that,  if  they 
ever  had  the  right,  they  deliberately  renounced  it,  at  the 
glorious  revolution  of  1688.  for  themselves  and  their  posterity 
forever. 

The  work  of  reform  is,  of  course,  rendered  exceedingly 
difficult,  in  Europe,  by  the  length  of  time  for  which  great 
abuses  have  existed,  and  the  extent  to  which  these  abuses  are 
interwoven  with  the  whole  system.  We  cannot  but  regard 
it  as  the  plain  interposition  of  Providence,  that,  at  the  critical 
period  when  the  most  powerful  springs  of  improvement 
were  in  operation,  a  chosen  company  of  Pilgrims,  who  were 
actuated  by  these  springs  of  improvement,  in  all  their  strength, 
who  had  purchased  the  privilege  of  dissent  at  the  high  price 
of  banishment  from  the  civilized  world,  and  who,  with  the 
dust  of  their  feet,  had  shaken  off  many  of  the  abuses  and 
errors  which  had  been  accumulating  for  hundreds  of  years, 
came  over  to  these  distant  and  unoccupied  shores.  I  know 
not  that  the  work  of  thorough  reform  could  be  safely  trusted 
to  any  different  hands.  I  can  credit  their  disinterestedness, 
when  they  maintain  the  equality  of  ranks ;  for  no  rich  for- 
feitures of  attainted  lords  await  them  in  the  wilderness.  I 
need  not  question  the  sincerity  with  which  they  assert  the 
rights  of  conscience ;  for  the  plundered  treasures  of  an 
ancient  hierarchy  are  not  to  seal  their  doctrine.  They  rested 
the  edifice  of  their  civil  and  religious  liberties  on  a  foundation 
as  pure  as  the  snows  around  them.  Blessed  be  the  spot,  the 
only  one  on  earth,  where  man  has  been  able,  in  the  organiza- 
tion of  a  commonwealth,  to  establish  the  good,  without 
beginning  with  the  sad,  the  odious,  the  often  suspicious  task 
of  pulling  down  the  bad  ! 

III.  Under  these  auspices,  the  Pilgrims  landed  on  the  coast 


60  FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

of  New  England.  They  found  it  a  region  of  moderate  fer- 
tility, offering  an  unsubdued  wilderness  to  the  hand  of  labor, 
with  a  climate  temperate,  indeed,  but,  compared  with  that 
which  they  had  left,  verging  somewhat  near  to  either  ex- 
treme ;  and  a  soil  which  promised  neither  gold  nor  diamonds, 
nor  any  thing  but  what  should  be  gained  from  it  by  patient 
industry.  This  was  but  a  poor  reality  for  that  dream  of 
Oriental  luxury  with  which  America  had  filled  the  imagina- 
tions of  men.  The  visions  of  Indian  wealth,  of  mines  of 
silver  and  gold,  and  fisheries  of  pearl,  with  which  the  Spanish 
adventurers  in  Mexico  and  Peru  had  astonished  the  ears  of 
Europe,  were  but  poorly  fulfilled  on  the  bleak  and  sterile 
plains  of  New  England.  No  doubt,  in  the  beginning  of  the 
settlement,  these  circumstances  operated  unfavorably  on  the 
growth  of  the  colony.  In  the  nature  of  things,  it  is  mostl) 
adventurers  who  incline  to  leave  their  homes  and  native  land, 
and  risk  the  uncertainty  of  another  hemisphere ;  and  a 
climate  and  soil  like  ours  furnished  but  little  attraction  to  the 
adventuring  class.  Captain  Smith,  in  his  zeal  to  promote  the 
growth  of  New  England,  is  at  no  little  pains  to  show  that 
the  want  of  mineral  treasures  was  amply  compensated  by  the 
abundant  fishery  of  the  coast ;  and  having  sketched,  in  strong 
colors,  the  prosperity  and  wealth  of  the  states  of  Holland,  he 
adds,  "  Divers,  I  know,  may  allege  many  other  assistances, 
but  this  is  the  chiefest  mine,  and  the  sea  the  source  of  those 
silver  streams  of  their  virtue,  which  hath  made  them  now 
the  very  miracle  of  industry,  the  only  pattern  of  perfection 
for  these  affairs  ;  and  the  benefit  of  fishing  is  that  primum 
mobile  that  turns  all  their  spheres  to  this  height  of  plenty, 
strength,  honor,  and  exceeding  great  admiration."  * 

While  we  smile  at  this  overwrought  panegyric  on  the 
primitive  resource  of  the  first  settlers  of  New  England,  we 
.cannot  but  acknowledge  that  it  has  foundation  in  truth.  It 
is,  doubtless,  to  the  untempting  qualities  of  our  climate  and 
soil,  and  the  conditions  of  industry  and  frugality,  on  which 
alone  the  prosperity  of  the  colony  could  be  secured,  that 

*  Smith's  Generall  Historic,  Vol.  II.  p.  185,  Richmond  edit 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.  61 

we  are  to  look  for  a  full  share  of  the  final  success  of  the 
enterprise. 

To  this  it  is  to  be  ascribed,  that  the  country  itself  was  riot 
preoccupied  by  a  crowded  population  of  savages,  like  the 
West  India  Islands  and  Mexico,  who,  placed  upon  a  soil 
yielding  almost  spontaneously  a  superabundance  of  food,  had 
multiplied  into  populous  empires,  and  made  a  progress  in  the 
arts  which  served  no  other  purpose  than  to  give  strength  and 
duration  to  some  of  the  most  frightful  systems  of  despotism 
that  ever  afflicted  humanity  ;  systems  uniting  all  that  is  most 
horrible  in  depraved  civilization  and  wild  barbarity.  The 
problem,  indeed,  is  hard  to  be  solved,  in  what  way,  and  by 
what  steps,  a  continent  possessed  by  savage  tribes  is  to  be 
lawfully  occupied  and  colonized  by  civilized  man.  But  this 
question  was  divested  of  much  of  its  practical  difficulty  by 
the  scantiness  of  the  native  population  which  our  fathers 
found  in  New  England,  and  the  migratory  life  to  which  the 
necessity  of  the  chase  reduced  them.  It  is  owing  to  this 
that  the  annals  of  New  England  exhibit  no  scenes  like  those 
which  were  acted  in  Hispaniola,  in  Mexico,  and  Peru ;  no 
tragedies  like  those  of  Anacaona,  of  Guatimozin,  and  of  Ata- 
hualpa ;  no  statesmen  like  Bobadilla ;  no  heroes  like  Pizarro 
and  Cortes ; 

"  No  dark  Ovando,  no  religious  Boyle." 

The  qualities  of  our  climate  and  soil  enter  largely,  in  other 
ways,  into  that  natural  basis  on  which  our  prosperity  and  our 
freedom  have  been  reared.  It  is  these  which  distinguish  the 
smiling  aspect  of  our  busy,  thriving  villages  from  the  lucra- 
tive desolation  of  the  sugar  islands,  and  all  the  wide-spread 
miseries  of  the  colonial  system  of  modern  Europe,  as  it  has 
existed,  beyond  the  barrier  of  these  mighty  oceans,  in  the 
unvisited,  unprotected,  and  unavenged  recesses  of  either 
India.  We  have  had  abundant  reason  to  be  contented  with 
this  austere  sky,  this  hard,  unyielding  soil.  Poor  as  it  is,  it 
has  left  us  no  cause  to  sigh  for  the  luxuries  of  the  tropics,  noi 
to  covet  the  mines  of  the  southern  regions  of  our  hemisphere. 
Our  rough  and  hardly  subdued  hill-sides,  and  barren  plains, 


62          FIJtlST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

have  produced  us  that  which  neither  ores,  nor  spices,  nor 
sweets  could  purchase  ;  which  would  not  spring  in  the  richest 
gardens  of  the  despotic  East.  The  compact  numbers  and  the 
strength,  the  general  intelligence  and  the  aptitude  for  the  arts 
of  high  civilization,  which,  since  the  world  began,  were  never 
exhibited  beneath  the  sultry  line,  have  been  the  precious 
product  of  this  iron-bound  coast.  The  rocks  and  the  sands, 
which  would  yield  us  neither  the  cane  nor  the  coffee-tree, 
have  yielded  us,  not  only  an  abundance  and  a  steadiness  in 
resources,  rarely  enjoyed  amidst  the  treacherous  profusion  of 
tropical  colonies,  but  the  habits,  the  manners,  the  industrious 
population,  the  schools  and  the  churches,  precious  beyond  all 
the  wealth  of  all  the  Indies. 

"Man  is  the  nobler  growth  our  soil  supplies, 
And  souls  are  ripened  in  our  northern  skies." 

Describe  to  me  a  country  rich  in  veins  of  the  precious 
metals  that  is  traversed  by  good  roads.  Inform  me  of  the 
convenience  of  bridges,  where  'he  rivers  roll  over  golden 
sands.  Tell  me  of  a  thrifty,  prosperous  village  of  freemen 
in  the  miserable  districts  where  every  clod  of  the  earth  is 
kneaded  up  for  diamonds,  beneath  the  lash  of  the  task-master. 
No,  never  !  while  the  constitution,  not  of  states,  but  of  human 
nature,  remains  the  same ;  never,  while  the  laws,  not  of  civil 
society,  but  of  God,  are  unrepealed,  will  there  be  a  hardy, 
virtuous,  independent  yeomanry  in  regions  where  two  acres 
of  untilled  banana  will  feed  a  hundred  men.*  It  is  idle  to 
call  that  food,  which  can  never  feed  a  free,  intelligent,  indus- 
trious population.  It  is  not  food ;  it  is  chaff ;  it  is  ashes  ; 
there  is  no  nourishment  in  it,  if  it  be  not  carefully  sown,  and 
painfully  reaped,  by  laborious  freemen,  and  the  better  if  on 
their  own  fee-simple  acres. 

IV.  Nor  ought  we  to  omit  to  say,  that  if  our  forefathers 
found,  in  the  nature  of  the  region  to  which  they  emigrated, 
the  most  favorable  spot  for  the  growth  of  a  free  and  happy 
state,  they  themselves  sprang  from  the  country  and  the  stock, 

*  Humboldt,  Essai  Politique  sur  le  Royaume  de  la  Nouvelle  Espagne, 
Tom.  III.  28,  35. 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.          63 

the  best  adapted  to  furnish  the  habits  and  principles  essential 
to  the  great  undertaking.  In  an  age  that  speculates,  arid 
speculates  to  important  purpose,  on  the  races  of  fossil  animals, 
of  which  no  living  specimen  has  existed  since  the  deluge, 
and  which  compares,  with  curious  criticism,  the  dialects  of 
languages  which  ceased  to  be  spoken  a  thousand  years  ago, 
it  cannot  be  called  idle,  to  inquire,  which  of  the  different 
countries  of  modern  Europe  possesses  the  qualities  that  best 
adapt  it  to  become  the  parent  nation  of  a  new  and  free  state. 
I  know  not,  in  fact,  what  more  momentous  question  in  human 
affairs  could  be  asked,  than  that  which  regards  the  most 
hopeful  lineage  of  a  collective  empire.  But  without  engaging 
in  so  extensive  a  discussion,  I  may  presume  that  there  is  not 
one  who  hears  me,  that  does  not  regard  it  as  a  matter  of  con- 
gratr.*ation  and  joy,  that  our  fathers  were  Englishmen. 

No  character  is  perfect  among  nations,  more  than  among 
men;  but  it  must  needs  be  conceded  that,  of  all  the  states 
of  Europe,  England  has  been,  from  an  early  period,  the 
most  favored  abode  of  liberty ;  the  only  part  of  Europe, 
where,  for  any  length  of  time,  constitutional  liberty  can 
be  said  to  have  a  stable  existence.  We  can  scarcely  con- 
template, with  patience,  the  idea  that  we  might  have  been 
a  Spanish  colony,  a  Portuguese  colony,  or  a  Dutch  col- 
ony. We  can  scarcely  compare,  with  coolness,  the  inherit- 
ance which  was  transmitted  to  us  by  our  fathers,  with  that 
which  we  must  have  received  from  almost  any  other  country ; 
absolute  government,  military  despotism,  and  the  "  holy  inqui- 
sition." What  would  have  been  the  condition  of  this  flour- 
ishing and  happy  land,  had  these  been  the  institutions  on 
which  its  settlement  was  founded  ?  There  are,  unfortunately, 
too  many  materials  for  answering  this  question,  in  the  history 
of  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese  settlements  on  the  American 
continent,  from  the  first  moment  of  unrelenting  waste  and 
desolation,  to  the  distractions  and  conflicts  of  which  we  our- 
selves are  the  witnesses.  What  hope  can  there  be  for  the 
colonies  of  nations  which  possess  themselves  no  spring  of 
improvement,  and  tolerate  none  in  the  regions  over  which 
they  rule ;  whose  administration  sets  no  bright  examples  of 


64         FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

parliamentary  independence  ;  whose  languages  send  out  no 
reviving  lessons  of  sound  and  practical  science,  (afraid  of 
nothing  that  is  true,)  of  manly  literature,  of  sound  philosophy  ; 
but  repeat,  with  every  ship  that  crosses  the  Atlantic,  the  same 
debasing  voice  of  despotism,  bigotry,  and  antiquated  super- 
stition ? 

What  citizen  of  our  republic  is  not  grateful,  in  the  contrast 
which  our  history  presents  ?  Who  does  not  feel,  what  reflect- 
ing American  does  not  acknowledge,  the  incalculable  advan- 
tages derived  to  this  land,  out  of  the  deep  fountains  of  civil, 
intellectual,  and  moral  truth,  from  which  we  have  drawn  in 
England  ?  What  American  does  not  feel  proud  that  his 
fathers  were  the  countrymen  of  Bacon,  of  Newton,  and  of 
Locke  ?  Who  does  not  know  that,  while  every  pulse  of  civil 
liberty  in  the  heart  of  the  British  empire  beat  warm  and  full 
in  the  bosom  of  our  ancestors,  the  sobriety,  the  firmness,  and 
the  dignity,  with  which  the  cause  of  free  principles  struggled 
into  existence  here,  constantly  found  encouragement  and 
countenance  from  the  friends  of  liberty  there  ?  Who  does 
not  remember  that,  when  the  Pilgrims  went  over  the  sea,  the 
prayers  of  the  faithful  British  confessors,  in  all  the  quarters  of 
their  dispersion,  went  over  with  them,  while  their  aching  eyes 
were  strained,  till  the  star  of  hope  should  go  up  in  the  western 
skies  ?  And  who  will  ever  forget  that,  in  that  eventful 
struggle  which  severed  these  youthful  republics  from  the 
British  crown,  there  was  not  heard,  throughout  our  continent 
in  arms,  a  voice  which  spoke  louder  for  the  rights  of  America, 
than  that  of  Burke,  or  of  Chatham,  within  the  walls  of  the 
British  parliament,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  British  throne  ?  No  : 
for  myself  I  can  truly  say  that,  after  my  native  land,  I  feel  a 
tenderness  and  a  reverence  for  that  of  my  fathers.  The  pride 
I  take  in  my  own  country  makes  me  respect  that  from  which 
we  are  sprung.  In  touching  the  soil  of  England,  I  seem  to 
return,  like  a  descendant,  to  the  old  family  seat ;  to  come  back 
to  the  abode  of  an  aged  and  venerable  parent.  I  acknowledge 
this  great  consanguinity  of  nations.  The  sound  of  my  native 
language,  beyond  the  sea,  is  a  music  to  my  ear,  beyond  the 
richest  strains  of  Tuscan  softness  or  Castilian  majesty.  I  am 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.  65 

not  yet  in  a  land  of  strangers,  while  surrounded  by  the  man- 
ners, the  habits,  and  the  institutions  under  which  I  have  been 
brought  up.  I  wander,  delighted,  through  a  thousand  scenes, 
which  the  historians  and  the  poets  have  made  familiar  to  us; 
of  which  the  names  are  interwoven  with  our  earliest  associ- 
ations. I  tread  with  reverence  the  spots  where  I  can  retrace 
the  footsteps  of  our  suffering  fathers;  the  pleasant  land  of 
their  birth  has  a  claim  on  my  heart.  It  seems  to  me  a  classic, 
yea,  a  holy  land  ;  rich  in  the  memory  of  the  great  and  good, 
the  champions  and  the  martyrs  of  liberty,  the  exiled  heralds 
of  truth  ;  and  richer,  as  the  parent  of  this  land  of  promise  in 
the  west. 

I  am  not  —  I  need  not  say  I  am  not  —  the  panegyrist  of 
England.  I  am  not  dazzled  by  her  riches,  nor  awed  by  her 
power.  The  sceptre,  the  mitre,  and  the  coronet  —  stars, 
garters,  and  blue  ribbons — seem  to  me  poor  things  for  great 
men  to  contend  for.  Nor  is  my  admiration  awakened  by  her 
armies,  mustered  for  the  battles  of  Europe  ;  her  navies,  over- 
shadowing the  ocean  ;  nor  her  empire,  grasping  the  farthest 
East.  It  is  these,  and  the  price  of  guilt  and  blood  by  which 
they  are  too  often  maintained,  which  are  the  cause  why  no 
friend  of  liberty  can  salute  her  with  undivided  affections. 
But  it  is  the  cradle  and  the  refuge  of  free  principles,  though 
often  persecuted ;  the  school  of  religious  liberty,  the  more 
precious  for  the  struggles  through  which  it  has  passed ;  the 
tombs  of  those  who  have  reflected  honor  on  all  who  speak 
the  English  tongue ;  it  is  the  birthplace  of  our  fathers,  the 
home  of  the  Pilgrims ;  it  is  these  which  I  love-  and  venerate 
in  England.  I  should  feel  ashamed  of  an  enthusiasm  for 
Italy  and  Greece,  did  I  not  also  feel  it  for  a  land  like  this. 
In  an  American,  it  would  seem  to  me  degenerate  and  ungrate- 
fu .  to  hang  with  passion  upon  the  traces  of  Homer  and  Virgil, 
and  follow  without  emotion  the  nearer  and  plainer  footsteps 
of  Shakspeare  and  Milton.  1  should  think  him  cold  in 
his  love  for  his  native  land,  who  felt  no  melting  in  his  heart 
for  that  other  native  country,  which  holds  the  ashes  of  his 
forefathers. 

V.  But  it  was  not  enough  that  our  fathers  were  of  Eng- 
VOL.  i.  9 


66         FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

land :  the  masters  of  Ireland  and  the  lords  of  Hindostan  are 
of  England  too.  But  our  fathers  were  Englishmen,  aggrieved, 
persecuted,  and  banished.  It  is  a  principle  amply  borne  out  by 
the  history  of  the  great  and  powerful  nations  of  the  earth, 
and  by  that  of  none  more  than  the  country  of  which  we 
speak,  that  the  best  fruits  and  choicest  action  of  the  com- 
mendable qualities  of  the  national  character  are  to  be  found 
on  the  side  of  the  oppressed  few,  and  not  of  the  triumphant 
many.  As,  in  private  character,  adversity  is  often  requisite  to 
give  a  proper  direction  and  temper  to  strong  qualities,  so  the 
noblest  traits  of  national  character  in  all  countries,  our  own 
not  excepted,  will  often  be  found  in  times  of  trial  and  disaster, 
in  the  ranks  of  a  protesting  minority  or  of  a  dissenting  sect. 
Never  was  this  truth  more  clearly  illustrated  than  in  the  set- 
tlement of  New  England. 

Could  a  common  calculation  of  policy  have  dictated  the 
terms  of  that  settlement,  no  doubt  our  foundations  would  have 
been  laid  beneath  the  royal  smile.  Convoys  and  navies  would 
have  been  solicited  to  waft  our  fathers  to  the  coast ;  armies, 
to  defend  the  infant  communities ;  and  the  patronage  of  princes 
and  great  men,  to  defend  their  interests  in  the  councils  of  the 
mother  country.  Happy,  that  our  fathers  enjoyed  no  such 
patronage ;  happy,  that  they  fell  into  no  such  protecting 
hands ;  happy,  that  our  foundations  were  silently  and  deeply 
cast  in  quiet  insignificance,  beneath  a  charter  of  banishment, 
persecution,  and  contempt ;  so  that,  when  the  royal  arm  was 
at  length  outstretched  against  us,  instead  of  a  submissive 
child,  tied  down  by  former  graces,  it  found  a  youthful  giant 
in  the  land,  born  amidst  hardships,  and  nourished  on  the 
rocks,  indebted  for  no  favors,  and  owing  no  duty.  From  the 
dark  portals  of  the  Star  Chamber,  and  in  the  stern  text  of  the 
acts  of  uniformity,  the  Pilgrims  received  a  commission  more 
efficient  than  any  that  ever  bore  the  royal  seal.  Their  banish- 
ment to  Holland  was  fortunate ;  the  decline  of  their  little 
company  in  the  strange  land  was  fortunate ;  the  difficulties 
which  they  experienced  in  getting  the  royal  consent  to  banish 
themselves  to  this  wilderness  were  fortunate ;  all  the  tears 
and  heart-breakings  of  that  ever-memorable  parting  at  Delft- 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.         G7 

haven  had  the  happiest  influence  on  the  rising  destinies  of 
New  England.  All  this  purified  the  ranks  of  the  settlers. 
These  rough  touches  of  fortune  brushed  off  the  light,  uncer- 
tain, selfish  spirits.  They  made  it  a  grave,  solemn,  self- 
denying  expedition.  They  cast  a  broad  shadow  of  thought 
and  seriousness  over  the  cause,  and  if  this  sometimes  deep- 
ened into  severity  and  bitterness,  can  we  find  no  apology  for 
such  a  human  weakness  ? 

It  is  sad,  indeed,  to  reflect  on  the  disasters  which  this  little 
band  of  Pilgrims  encountered  ;  sad  to  see  a  portion  of  them, 
the  prey  of  unrelenting  cupidity,  treacherously  embarked  in 
an  unseaworthy  ship,  which  they  are  soon  obliged  to  abandon, 
and  crowd  themselves  into  one  vessel  —  one  hundred  persons, 
besides  the  ship's  company,  in  a  vessel  of  one  hundred  and 
sixty  tons.  One  is  touched  at  the  story  of  the  long,  cold,  and 
dangerous  autumnal  passage  ;  of  the  landing  on  the  inhos- 
pitable rocks  at  this  dismal  season ;  where  they  are  deserted 
before  long  by  the  ship  which  had  brought  them,  and  which 
seemed  their  only  hold  upon  the  world  of  fellow-men  —  a 
prey  to  the  elements  and  to  want,  and  fearfully  ignorant  of 
the  power  and  the  temper  of  the  savage  tribes  that  filled  the 
unexplored  continent  upon  whose  verge  they  had  ventured. 
But  all  this  wrought  together  for  good.  These  trials  of 
wandering  and  exile,  of  the  ocean,  the  winter,  the  wilder- 
ness, and  the  savage  foe,  were  the  final  assurance  of  success. 
They  kept  far  away  from  the  enterprise  all  patrician  soft- 
ness, all  hereditary  claims  to  preeminence.  No  effeminate 
nobility  crowded  into  the  dark  and  austere  ranks  of  the  Pil- 
grims. No  Carr  nor  Villiers  desired  to  conduct  the  ill-provided 
band  of  despised  Puritans.  No  well-endowed  clergy  were 
desirous  to  quit  their  cathedrals,  and  set  up  a  splendid  hie- 
rarchy in  the  frozen  wilderness.  No  craving  governors  were 
anxious  to  be  sent  over  to  our  cheerless  El  Dorados  of  ice 
and  of  snow.  No,  they  could  not  say  they  had  encouraged, 
patronized,  or  helped  the  Pilgrims.  They  could  not  after- 
wards fairly  pretend  to  reap  where  they  had  not  strown  ; 
and  as  our  fathers  reared  this  broad  and  solid  fabric  with 
pains  and  watchfulness,  unaided,  barely  tolerated,  it  did  not 


68  FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND 

fall  when  the  arm  which  had  never  supported  was  raised  to 
destroy. 

Methinks  I  see  it  now,  that  one  solitary,  adventurous  vessel, 
the  Mayflower  of  a  forlorn  hope,  freighted  with  the  prospects 
of  a  future  state,  and  bound  across  the  unknown  sea.  I 
behold  it  pursuing,  with  a  thousand  misgivings,  the  uncer- 
tain, the  tedious  voyage.  Suns  rise  and  set,  and  weeks  and 
months  pass,  and  winter  surprises  them  on  the  deep,  but. 
brings  them  not  the  sight  of  the  wished-for  shore.  I  see 
them  now,  scantily  supplied  with  provisions,  crowded  almost 
to  suffocation  in  their  ill-stored  prison,  delayed  by  calms, 
pursuing  a  circuitous  route ;  and  now,  driven  in  fury  before 
the  raging  tempest,  in  their  scarcely  seaworthy  vessel.  The 
awful  voice  of  the  storm  howls  through  the  rigging.  The 
laboring  masts  seem  straining  from  their  base;  the  dismal 
sound  of  the  pumps  is  heard;  the  ship  leaps,  as  it  were, 
madly  from  billow  to  billow ;  the  ocean  breaks,  and  settles 
with  ingulfing  floods  over  the  floating  deck,  and  beats  with 
deadening  weight  against  the  staggered  vessel.  I  see  them, 
escaped  from  these  perils,  pursuing  their  all  but  desperate 
undertaking,  and  landed  at  last,  after  a  five  months'  passage, 
on  the  ice-clad  rocks  of  Plymouth,  weak  and  exhausted  from 
the  voyage,  poorly  armed,  scantily  provisioned,  depending  on 
the  charity  of  their  shipmaster  for  a  draught  of  beer  on  board, 
drinking  nothing  but  water  on  shore,  without  shelter,  without 
means,  surrounded  by  hostile  tribes.  Shut  now  the  volume  of 
history,  and  tell  me,  on  any  principle  of  human  probability, 
what  shall  be  the  fate  of  this  handful  of  adventurers.  Tell  me, 
man  of  military  science,  in  how  many  months  were  they  all 
swept  off  by  the  thirty  savage  tribes  enumerated  within  the 
boundaries  of  New  England  ?  Tell  me,  politician,  how  long 
did  this  shadow  of  a  colony,  on  which  your  conventions  and 
treaties  had  not  smiled,  languish  on  the  distant  coast  ?  Stu- 
dent of  history,  compare  for  me  the  baffled  projects,  tho 
deserted  settlements,  the  abandoned  adventures  of  other 
times,  and  find  the  parallel  of  this.  Was  it  the  winter's 
storm,  beating  upon  the  houseless  heads  of  women  and  chil- 
dren ?  was  it  hard  labor  and  spare  meals  ?  was  it  disease  f 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.          69 

was  it  the  tomahawk  ?  was  it  the  deep  malady  of  a  blighted 
hope,  a  ruined  enterprise,  and  a  broken  heart,  aching  in  its 
last  moments  at  the  recollection  of  the  loved  and  left,  beyond 
the  sea  ?  —  was  it  some  or  all  of  these  united  that  hurried 
this  forsaken  company  to  their  melancholy  fate  ?  And  is  it 
possible  that  neither  of  these  causes,  that  not  all  combined, 
were  able  to  blast  this  bud  of  hope  ?  Is  it  possible  that  from 
a  beginning  so  feeble,  so  frail,  so  worthy,  not  so  much  of 
admiration  as  of  pity,  there  have  gone  forth  a  progress  so 
steady,  a  growth  so  wonderful,  a  reality  so  important,  a  prom- 
ise yet  to  be  fulfilled  so  glorious  ? 

Such,  in  a  very  inadequate  statement,  are  some  of  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  the  settlement  of  our  country  began. 
The  historian  of  Massachusetts,  after  having  given  a  brief 
notice  of  Carver,  of  Bradford,  of  Winslow,  of  Brewster,  of 
Standish,  and  others,  adds,  "  These  were  the  founders  of  the 
colony  of  Plymouth.  The  settlement  of  this  colony  occa- 
sioned the  settlement  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  which  was  the 
source  of  all  the  other  colonies  of  New  England.  Virginia 
was  in  a  dying  state,  and  seemed  to  revive  and  flourish  from 
the  example  of  New  England.  I  am  not  preserving  from 
oblivion,"  continues  he,  "  the  names  of  heroes,  whose  chief 
merit  is  the  overthrow  of  cities,  provinces,  and  empires ; 
but  the  names  of  the  founders  of  a  flourishing  town  and 
colony,  if  not  of  the  whole  British  empire  in  America."* 
This  was  the  judicious  reflection  of  Hutchinson,  sixty  years 
ago,  when  the  greatest  tribute  to  be  paid  to  the  Fathers  of 
Plymouth  was,  that  they  took  the  lead  in  colonizing  the 
British  possessions  in  America.  What,  then,  ought  to  be 
our  emotions,  as  we  meet,  on  this  anniversary,  upon  the  spot 
where  the  first  successful  foundations  of  the  great  American 
republic  were  laid  ? 

Within  a  short  period,  an  incident  has  occurred,  which,  of 
itself,  connects,  in  the  most  gratifying  association,  the  early 
settlement  of  New  England  with  the  present  growth  and 

*  Hutchinson's  History  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  Vol.  II.    Appendix,  p.  463. 


70  FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

prosperity  of  our  wide-extended  republic.  Within  the  past 
year,  the  ^iberal  hand  of  this  great  confederacy  of  states 
has  been  extended  for  the  restoration  and  security  of  the 
harbor,  where,  on  the  day  we  celebrate,  the  germ  of  the  future 
growth  of  America  was  comprehended  within  one  weather- 
beaten  vessel,  tossing  upon  the  tide,  on  board  of  which,  in  the 
words  of  Hutchinson,  the  Fathers  of  New  England,  by  a  sol- 
emn instrument,  "formed  themselves  into  a  proper  democracy." 
Two  centuries  only  have  elapsed,  and  we  behold  a  great 
American  representation  convened,  from  twenty-four  inde- 
pendent and  flourishing  republics,  taking  under  their  patron- 
age the  local  interests  of  the  spot  where  our  fathers  landed, 
and  providing,  in  the  same  act  of  appropriation,  for  the  removal 
of  obstacles  in  the  Mississippi  and  the  repair  of  Plymouth 
Beach.  I  know  not  in  what  words  a  more  beautiful  commen- 
tary could  be  written  on  our  early  infancy  or  our  happy 
growth.  There  were  members  of  the  national  Congress 
which  made  that  appropriation,  I  will  not  say  from  distant 
states,  but  from  different  climates ;  from  regions  which  the 
sun  in  the  heavens  does  not  reach  in  the  same  hour  that  he 
rises  on  us. 

JNor  is  it  even  our  mighty  territory  to  which  the  influence 
of  the  principles  and  example  of  the  Fathers  of  New  England 
is  confined.  While  I  utter  the  words,  a  constitution  of  repub- 
lican government,  closely  imitated  from  ours,  is  going  into 
operation  in  the  states  of  the  Mexican  confederation,  a  region 
more  extensive  than  all  our  territories  east  of  the  Mississippi. 
Farther  south,  one  of  the  provinces  of  Central  America,  the 
republic  of  San  Salvador,  has  sent  its  envoys  to  solicit  a  union 
with  us.  Will  posterity  believe  that  such  an  offer  was  made 
and  refused,  in  the  age  that  saw  England  and  Spain  rushing 
into  war  for  the  possession  of  a  few  uninhabited  islets  on  the 
coast  of  Patagonia?  Pass  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  and  we 
behold  the  sister  republic  of  Colombia,  a  realm  two  thirds  as 
large  as  Europe,  ratifying  her  first  solemn  treaty  of  amity 
and  commerce  with  the  United  States ;  while  still  onward  to 
the  south,  in  the  valleys  of  the  Chilian  Andes,  and  on  the 
banks  of  La  Plata,  in  states  not  less  vast  than  those  already 


FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND.  71 

named,  constitutions  of  republican  government  are  in  pros- 
perous operation,  founded  on  our  principles,  and  modelled  on 
our  forms.  When  our  commissioners  visited  those  countries, 
in  1817,  they  found  the  books  most  universally  read  among 
the  people  were  the  constitutions  of  the  United  States  and  of 
the  several  states,  translated  into  the  language  of  the  country  ; 
while  the  public  journals  were  filled  with  extracts  from  the 
celebrated  "  Defence  "  of  these  constitutions,  written  by  that 
venerable  descendant  of  the  Pilgrims,  (John  Adams,)  still 
living  in  our  neighborhood,  to  witness  the  prosperous  opera- 
tion of  the  governments  which  he  did  so  much  to  establish.* 
I  do  not  fear  that  we  shall  be  accused  of  extravagance  in 
the  enthusiasm  we  feel  at  a  train  of  events,  of  such  astonish- 
ing magnitude,  novelty,  and  consequence,  connected  by  asso- 
ciations so  intimate  with  the  day  we  now  hail ;  with  the 
events  we  now  celebrate ;  with  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  of  New 
England.  Victims  of  persecution !  how  wide  an  empire 
acknowledges  the  sway  of  your  principles !  Apostles  of 
liberty !  what  millions  attest  the  authenticity  of  your  mission  ! 
The  great  continents  of  America  have  become,  at  length, 
the  theatre  of  your  achievements ;  the  Atlantic  and  the 
Pacific,  the  highways  of  communication,  on  which  your  prin- 
ciples and  your  example  are  borne.  From  the  oldest  abodes 
of  civilization,  the  venerable  plains  of  Greece,  to  the  scarcely 
explored  range  of  the  Cordilleras,  the  impulse  you  gave  at 
length  is  felt.  While  other  regions  revere  you  as  the  leaders 
of  this  great  march  of  humanity,  we  are  met,  on  this  joyful 
day,  to  offer  to  your  memory  our  tribute  of  filial  affection. 
The  sons  and  daughters  of  the  Pilgrims,  we  have  assembled 
on  the  spot  where  you,  our  suffering  fathers,  set  foot  on  this 
happy  shore.  Happy,  indeed,  it  has  been  for  us !  O  that 

*  This  oration  dates  in  1824.  The  interval  between  that  period  and 
the  present  has  furnished  many  other  instances  of  the  influence  of  Amer- 
ican precedents  in  the  political  reforms  of  the  age.  Perhaps  the  most 
astonishing  is  the  fact,  that  within  the  current  year  (1849)  a  constitution 
of  representative  government  has  been  proclaimed  in  the  Austrian  empire, 
of  which  it  was  said  in  the  British  House  of  Lords,  that  it  was  modelled 
on  that  of  the  United  States,  rather  than  on  that  of  England 


72  FIRST    SETTLEMENT    OF    NEW    ENGLAND. 

you  could  have  enjoyed  those  blessings  which  you  prepared 
for  your  children !  Could  our  comfortable  homes  have  shielded 
you  from  the  wintry  air !  could  our  abundant  harvests  have 
supplied  you  in  time  of  famine !  could  the  broad  shield  of 
our  beloved  country  have  sheltered  you  from  the  visitations 
of  arbitrary  power !  We  come,  in  our  prosperity,  to  remem- 
ber your  trials ;  and  here,  on  the  spot  where  New  England 
began  to  be,  we  come  to  learn  of  you,  our  Pilgrim  Fathers, 
an  abiding  lesson  of  virtue,  enterprise,  patience,  zeal,  and 
faith  ! 


THE    FIRST    BATTLES     OF    THE    REVOLUTIONARY 

WAR.* 


FELLOW-CITIZENS  : 

THE  subject  which  the  present  occasion  presents  to  our 
consideration,  is  of  the  highest  interest.  The  appearance  of 
a  new  state  in  the  great  family  of  nations,  is  one  of  the  most 
important  topics  of  reflection  that  can  ever  be  addressed  to 
us.  In  the  case  of  America,  the  magnitude  and  the  difficulty 
of  the  subject  are  greatly  increased  by  peculiar  circumstances. 
Our  progress  has  been  so  rapid  ;  the  interval  has  been  so  short 
between  the  first  plantations  in  the  wilderness  and  the  full 
development  of  our  political  system ;  there  has  been  such  a 
visible  agency  of  single  characters  in  affecting  the  condition 
of  the  country  ;  such  an  almost  instantaneous  expansion  of 
single  events  into  consequences  of  incalculable  importance, 
that  we  find  ourselves  deserted  by  the  principles  and  prece- 
dents drawn  from  the  analogy  of  other  states.  Men  have 
here  seen,  felt,  and  acted  themselves,  what  in  most  other 
countries  has  been  the  growth  of  centuries. 

Take  your  station,  for  instance,  on  Connecticut  River. 
Every  thing  about  you,  whatsoever  you  behold  or  approach, 
bears  witness  that  you  belong  to  a  powerful  and  prosperous 
state.  But  it  is  only  seventy  years  since  the  towns  which  you 
now  contemplate  with  admiration,  as  the  abodes  of  a  numer- 
ous, refined,  enterprising  population,  safe  in  the  enjoyment  of 
life's  best  blessings,  were  wasted  and  burned  by  the  savages 

*  Oration  delivered  at  Concord,  19th  April,  1825 
VOL.  I.  10  (73) 


74  FIEST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

of  the  wilderness  ;  and  their  inhabitants,  in  large  numbers,  — 
the  old  and  the  young,  the  minister  of  the  gospel,  and  the 
mother  with  her  new-born  babe,  —  were  wakened  at  midnight 
by  the  war-whoop,  dragged  from  their  beds,  and  marched 
with  bleeding  feet  across  the  snow-clad  mountains,  to  be  sold, 
as  slaves,  to  the  French  in  Canada.  Go  back  eighty  years 
farther,  and  the  same  barbarous  foe  is  on  the  skirts  of  your 
oldest  settlements, — at  your  own  doors.  As  late  as  1676. 
ten  or  twelve  citizens  of  Concord  were  slain  or  carried  into 
captivity,  who  had  gone  to  meet  the  Indians  in  their  attack 
on  Sudbury,  in  which  the  brave  Captain  Wadsworth  and  his 
companions  fell. 

These  contrasts  regard  the  political  strength  of  our  coun- 
try ;  the  growth  in  national  resources  presents  a  case  of 
increase  still  more  astonishing,  though  less  adapted  to  move 
the  feelings.  By  the  last  valuation,  the  aggregate  property 
of  Massachusetts  is  estimated  at  something  less  than  three 
hundred  millions  of  dollars.  By  the  valuation  made  in  1780, 
the  property  of  Massachusetts  and  Maine  was  estimated  at 
only  eleven  millions. 

That  astonishing  incident  in  human  affairs,  the  revolution 
of  America,  as  seen  on  the  day  of  its  portentous,  or  rather,  let 
me  say,  of  its  auspicious  commencement,  is  the  theme  of  our 
present  consideration.  To  what  shall  we  direct  our  thoughts  ? 
On  the  one  hand,  we  behold  a  connection  of  events ;  the  time 
and  circumstances  of  the  original  discovery  ;  the  settlements 
of  the  Pilgrims,  and  their  peculiar  principles  and  character ; 
their  singular  political  relations  with  the  mother  country  ; 
their  long  and  doubtful  struggle  with  the  savage  tribes ;  their 
collisions  with  the  royal  governors ;  their  cooperation  in  the 
British  wars ;  with  all  the  influences  of  their  geographical 
and  physical  condition  ;  uniting  to  constitute  what  I  may  call 
the  national  education  of  America.  When  we  take  this  sur- 
vey, we  feel,  as  far  as  Massachusetts  is  concerned,  that  we 
ought  to  divide  the  honors  of  the  revolution  with  the  great 
men  of  the  colony  in  every  generation  ;  with  the  Windows 
and  the  Pepperells,  the  Cookes,  the  Dummers,  and  the  Math- 
ers, the  Winthrops  and  the  Bradfords,  and  all  who  labored  and 


FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  75 

acted  in  the  cabinet,  the  desk,  or  the  field,  for  the  one  great 
cause.  On  the  other  hand,  when  we  dwell  upon  the  day 
itself,  every  thing  else  seems  lost  in  the  comparison.  Had 
our  fathers  failed,  on  that  day  of  trial  which  we  now  cele- 
brate ;  had  their  votes  and  their  resolves  (as  was  tauntingly 
predicted  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic)  ended  in  the  breath 
in  which  they  began ;  had  the  rebels  laid  down  their  arms, 
as  they  were  commanded ;  and  the  military  stores,  which  had 
been  frugally  treasured  up  for  this  crisis,  been,  without  resist- 
ance, destroyed  ;  — then  the  revolution  would  have  been  at 
an  end,  or  rather  never  had  been  begun ;  the  heads  of  Han- 
cock and  Adams  and  their  brave  colleagues  would  have  been 
exposed  in  ghastly  triumph  on  Temple  Bar ;  a  military  des- 
potism would  have  been  firmly  fixed  in  the  colonies ;  the 
patriots  of  Massachusetts  would  have  been  doubly  despised, 
the  scorn  of  their  enemies,  the  scorn  of  their  deluded  country- 
men ;  and  the  heart  of  this  great  people,  then  beating  and 
almost  bursting  for  freedom,  would  have  been  struck  cold  and 
dead,  perhaps  forever. 

It  may  be  objected  to  such  a  celebration  as  this,  that  it 
tends  to  keep  up  a  hostile  sentiment  towards  England.  But  I 
do  not  acknowledge  the  justice  of  this  scruple.  In  the  first 
place,  it  was  not  England,  but  the  English  ministerial  party 
of  the  day,  and  even  a  small  circle  in  that  party,  which  pro- 
jected the  measures  that  resulted  in  our  revolution.  The 
rights  of  America  found  steady  and  powerful  assertors  in 
England.  Lord  Chatham  declared  to  the  House  of  Peers  that ' 
he  was  glad  America  had  resisted ;  and,  alluding  to  the  fact 
that  he  had  a  son  in  the  British  army,  he  added,  that  "  none 
of  his  blood  should  serve  in  this  detested  cause."  Nay,  even 
a  portion  of  the  ministry  that  imposed  the  stamp  duty,  —  the 
measure  which  hastened  the  spirit  of  America  to  a  crisis  which 
it  might  not  have  reached  in  a  generation,  —  Lord  Mansfield, 
the  Duke  of  Giafton,  the  Earl  of  Shelburne,  and  Lord  Camden, 
rose,  one  after  another,  and  asserted  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
that  they  had  no  share  in  some  of  the  measures  which  were 
proposed  by  the  verv  cabinet  of  which  they  were  leading 
members 


76  FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

But  I  must  go  farther.  Did  faithful  history  compel  us  to 
cast  on  all  England,  united,  the  reproach  of  those  measures 
which  drove  our  fathers  to  arms ;  and  were  it,  in  consequence, 
the  unavoidable  effect  of  these  celebrations,  to  revive  the 
feelings  of  revolutionary  times  in  the  bosoms  of  the  aged  ; 
to  kindle  those  feelings  anew  in  the  susceptible  hearts  of  the 
young ;  it  would  still  be  our  duty,  on  every  becoming  occa- 
sion, in  the  strongest  colors,  and  in  the  boldest  lines  we  can 
command,  to  retrace  the  picture  of  the  times  that  tried  men's 
souls.  We  owe  it  to  our  fathers,  we  owe  it  to  our  children. 
A  pacific  and  friendly  feeling  towards  England  is  the  duty  of 
this  nation ;  but  it  is  not  our  only  nor  our  first  duty.  Amer- 
ica owes  an  earlier  and  a  higher  duty  to  the  great  and  good 
men  who  caused  her  to  be  a  nation,  at  an  expense  of  treasure, 
a  contempt  of  peril,  a  prodigality  of  blood,  as  pure  and  noble 
as  ever  flowed.  I  cannot  consent,  out  of  tenderness  to  the 
memory  of  the  Gages,  the  Hutchinsons,  the  Grenvilles  and 
Norths,  the  Dartmouths  and  Hillsboroughs,  to  cast  a  veil  over 
the  labors  and  the  sacrifices  of  the  Quincys,  the  Adamses,  the 
Hancocks,  and  the  Warrens. 

There  is  not  a  people  on  earth  so  abject  as  to  think  that 
national  courtesy  requires  them  to  hush  up  the  tale  of  the 
glorious  exploits  of  their  fathers  and  countrymen.  France  is 
at  peace  with  Austria  and  Prussia  ;  but  she  does  not  demolish 
her  beautiful  bridges,  which  perpetuate  the  names  of  the 
battle-fields  where  Napoleon  annihilated  their  armies,  nor 
tear  down  the  columns  molten  out  of  their  captured  artillery. 
England  is  at  peace  with  France  and  Spain;  but  does  she 
suppress  the  names  of  Trafalgar  and  Waterloo  ?  does  she 
overthrow  the  towers  of  Blenheim  Castle,  eternal  monuments 
of  the  disasters  of  France  ?  No  ;  she  is  wiser.  Wiser,  did  1 
say  ?  She  is  truer,  juster  to  the  memory  of  her  fathers  and  the 
spirit  of  her  children.  The  national  character,  in  some  of 
its  most  important  elements,  must  be  formed,  elevated,  and 
strengthened  from  the  materials  which  history  presents.  Are 
we  to  be  eternally  ringing  the  changes  upon  Marathon  and 
Thermopyla3  ;  and  going  back  to  find  in  obscure  texts  of 
Greek  and  Latin  the  great  exemplars  of  patriotic  virtue  ?  I 


FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     77 

rejoice  that  we  can  find  them  nearer  home,  in  our  own  coun- 
try, on  our  own  soil  ;  that  strains  of  the  noblest  feeling 
that  °,ver  swelled  in  the  breast  of  man,  are  breathing  to  us, 
out  of  every  page  of  our  country's  history,  in  the  native  elo- 
quence of  our  mother  tongue ;  that  the  colonial  and  the 
provincial  councils  of  America  exhibit  to  us  models  of  the 
spirit  and  character  which  gave  Greece  and  Rome  their  name 
and  their  praise  among  the  nations.  Here  we  ought  to  go 
for  our  instruction  ;  the  lesson  is  plain,  and  easily  applied. 
When  we  go  to  ancient  history,  we  are  bewildered  with  the 
difference  of  manners  and  institutions.  We  are  willing  to 
pay  our  tribute  of  applause  to  the  memory  of  Leonidas,  who 
fell  nobly  for  his  country,  in  the  face  of  the  foe.  But  when 
we  trace  him  to  his  home,  we  are  confounded  at  the  reflec- 
tion, that  the  same  Spartan  heroism  to  which  he  sacrificed 
himself  at  Thermopylae,  would  have  led  him  to  tear  his  only 
child,  if  it  happened  to  be  a  sickly  babe,  —  the  object  for 
which  all  that  is  kind  and  good  in  man  most  strongly  pleads, 

—  from  the  bosom  of  its  mother,  and  carry  it  out  to  be  eaten 
by  the  wolves  of  Taygetus.     We  feel  a  glow  of  admiration 
at  the  heroism  displayed  at  Marathon,  by  the  ten  thousand 
champions  of  invaded  Greece ;  but  we  cannot  forget  that  the 
tenth  part  of  the  number  were  slaves,  unchained  from  the 
workshops  and  doorposts  of  their  masters,  to  go  and  fight  the 
battles  of  freedom.     I  do  not  mean  that  these  examples  are 
to  destroy  the  interest  with  which  we  read  the  history  of 
ancient  times ;   they  possibly  increase  that  interest,  by  the 
singular  contrasts  they  exhibit.     But  they  do  warn  us,  if  we 
need  the   warning,   to  seek  our  great  practical    lessons  of 
patriotism  at  home ;   out  of  the  exploits  and  sacrifices,  of 
which  our  own  country  is  the  theatre  ;  out  of  the  characters 
of  our  own  fathers.    Them  we  know,  the  natural,  unaffected, 

—  the  citizen  heroes.     We  know  what  happy  firesides  they 
left  for  the  cheerless  camp.      We  know  with  what  pacific 
habits  they  dared   the    perils   of   the    field.  •    There    is   no 
mystery,  no  romance,  no  madness,  under  the  name  of  chiv- 
alry, about  them.     It  is  all  resolute,  manly  resistance,  —  for 
the  sake  of  conscience   and  principle,  —  not  merely  of  an 


78  FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

overwhelming  power,  but  of  all  the  force  of  long-rooted 
habits,  and  the  native  love  of  order  and  peace. 

Above  all,  their  blood  calls  to  us  from  the  soil  which  we 
tread  ;  it  beats  in  our  veins  ;  it  cries  to  us,  not  merely  in  the 
thrilling  words  of  one  of  the  first  victims  in  the  cause,  "  My 
sons,  scorn  to  be  slaves,"  but  it  cries  with  a  still  more  moving 
eloquence,  "My  sons,  forget  not  your  fathers."  Fast,  O, 
too  fast,  with  all  our  efforts  to  prevent  it,  their  precious 
memories  are  dying  away.  Notwithstanding  our  numerous 
written  memorials,  much  of  what  is  known  of  those  eventful 
times  dwells  but  in  the  recollection  of  a  few  revered  sur- 
vivors, and  is  rapidly  perishing  with  them.  How  many 
prudent  counsels,  conceived  in  perplexed  times ;  how  many 
heart-stirring  words,  uttered  when  liberty  was  treason ;  how 
many  brave  and  heroic  deeds  performed  when  the  halter,  not 
the  laurel,  was  the  promised  meed  of  patriotic  daring, — are 
already  lost  and  forgotten  in  the  graves  of  their  authors ! 
How  little  do  we,  * —  although  we  have  been  permitted  to 
hold  converse  with  the  venerable  remnants  of  that  day,  — 
how  little  do  we  know  of  their  dark  and  anxious  hours  ;  of 
their  secret  meditations ;  of  the  hurried  and  perilous  events 
of  the  momentous  struggle !  And  while  they  are  dropping 
round  us  like  the  leaves  of  autumn,  and  scarce  a  week  passes 
that  does  not  call  away  some  member  of  the  veteran  ranks, 
already  so  sadly  thinned,  shall  we  make  no  effort  to  hand 
down  the  traditions  of  their  day  to  our  children  ;  to  pass  the 
torch  of  liberty  unquenched  to  those  who  stand  next  us  in 
the  line  ? 

Let  us  then  faithfully  go  back  to  those  all-important  days. 
Let  us  recall  the  events  with  which  the  momentous  revolu- 
tionary crisis  was  brought  on  ;  let  us  gather  up  the  traditions 
which  still  exist ;  let  us  show  the  world,  that  if  we  are  not 
called  to  follow  the  example  of  our  fathers,  we  are  at  least 
not  insensible  to  the  worth  of  their  characters,  nor  indifferent 
to  the  sacrifices  and  trials  by  which  they  purchased  our 
prosperity. 

Time  would  fail  us  to  recount  the  measures  by  which  the 
way  was  prepared  for  the  revolution  ;  —  the  stamp  act ;  its 


FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  79 

repeal,  with  the  declaration  of  the  right  to  tax  America ;  the 
landing  of  troops  in  Boston,  beneath  the  batteries  of  fourteen 
'vessels  of  war,  lying  broadside  to  the  town,  with  springs  on 
their  cables,  their  guns  loaded,  and  matches  smoking;  the 
repeated  insults,  and  finally  the  massacre  of  the  fifth  of 
March,  resulting  from  this  military  occupation ;  and  the 
Boston  Port  Bill,  by  which  the  final  catastrophe  was  hurried 
on.  Nor  can  we  dwell  upon  the  appointment  at  Salem,  on 
the  seventeenth  of  June,  1774,  of  the  delegates  to  the  Conti- 
nental Congress ;  of  the  formation  at  Salem,  in  the  following 
October,  of  the  Provincial  Congress ;  of  the  decided  measures 
which  were  taken  by  that  noble  assembly  at  Concord  and  at 
Cambridge  ;  of  the  preparations  they  made  against  the  worst, 
by  organizing  the  militia,  providing  stores,  and  appointing 
commanders.  All  this  was  done  by  the  close  of  the  year 
1774. 

At  length  the  memorable  year  of  1775  arrived.  The 
plunder  of  the  provincial  stores  at  Medford,  and  the  attempt 
to  seize  the  cannon  at  Salem,  had  produced  a  highly  irritated 
state  of  the  public  mind.  The  friends  of  our  rights  in 
England  made  a  vigorous  effort,  in  the  month  of  March,  to 
avert  the  crisis  that  impended.  On  the  twenty-second  of  that 
month,  Mr  Burke  spoke  the  last  word  of  conciliation  and 
peace.  He  spoke  it  in  a  tone  and  with  a  power  befitting  the 
occasion  and  the  man  ;  but  he  spoke  it  to  the  north-west 
wind.  Eight  days  after,  at  that  season  of  the  year  when  the 
prudent  New  England  husbandman  repairs  the  enclosures  of 
his  field,  as  the  first  preparation  for  the  labors  of  the  season, 
General  Gage  sent  out  a  party  of  eleven  hundred  men  to 
overthrow  the  stone  walls  in  the  neighborhood  of  Boston,  by 
way  of  opening  and  levelling  the  arena  for  the  approaching 
contest.  With  the  same  view,  in  the  months  of  February 
and  March,  his  officers  were  sent  in  disguise  to  traverse  the 
country,  to  make  military  surveys  of  its  roads  and  passes,  to 
obtain  accounts  of  the  stores  at  Concord  and  Worcester,  and 
to  communicate  with  the  disaffected.  These  disguised  offi- 
cers were  here  at  Concord,  on  the  twentieth  of  March,  and 
received  treacherous  or  unsuspecting  information  of  the 


80     FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

places  where  the  provincial  stores  were  concealed.  I  mention 
this  only  to  show  that  our  fathers,  in  their  arduous  contest, 
had  every  thing  to  contend  with  ;  secret  as  well  as  open  foes  ; 
treachery  as  well  as  power.  But  I  need  not  add  that  they  pos- 
sessed not  only  the  courage  and  the  resolution,  but  the  vigi- 
lance and  care  demanded  for  the  crisis.  In  November,  1774, 
a  society  had  been  formed  at  Boston,  principally  of  the  me- 
chanics of  that  town,  —  a  class  of  men  to  whom  the  revolu- 
tionary cause  was  as  deeply  indebted  as  to  any  other  in 
America,  —  for  the  express  purpose  of  closely  watching  the 
movements  of  the  open  and  secret  foes  of  the  country.  In 
the  long  and  dreary  nights  of  a  New  England  winter,  they 
patrolled  the  streets  ;  and  not  a  movement  which  concerned 
the  cause  escaped  their  vigilance.  Not  a  measure  of  the 
royal  governor  but  was  in  their  possession,  in  a  few  hours 
after  it  was  communicated  to  his  confidential  officers.  Nor 
was  manly  patriotism  alone  aroused  in  the  cause.  The 
daughters  of  America  were  inspired  with  the  same  noble 
temper  that  animated  their  fathers,  their  husbands,  and  their 
brothers.  The  historian  tells  us,  that  the  first  intimation 
communicated  to  the  patriots,  of  the  impending  commence- 
ment of  hostilities,  came  from  a  "  daughter  of  liberty,  un- 
equally yoked  with  an  enemy  of  her  country's  rights." 

With  all  these  warnings,  and  all  the  vigilance  with  which 
the  royal  troops  were  watched,  none  supposed  the  fatal  mo- 
ment was  so  near.  On  Saturday,  April  fifteenth,  the  Provin- 
cial Congress  adjourned  their  session  in  this  place,  to  meet  on 
the  tenth  of  May.  On  the  very  same  day,  Saturday,  the 
fifteenth  of  April,  the  companies  of  grenadiers  and  light 
infantry  in  Boston  —  the  flower  not  merely  of  the  royal 
garrison,  but  of  the  British  army  —  were  taken  off  their 
regular  duty,  under  the  pretence  of  learning  a  new  military 
exercise.  At  the  midnight  following,  the  boats  of  the  trans- 
port ships,  which  had  been  previously  repaired,  were  launched, 
and  moored  for  safety  under  the  sterns  of  the  vessels  of  war. 
Not  one  of  these  movements  —  least  of  all,  that  which  took 
place  under  cover  of  midnight  —  was  unobserved  by  the 
vigilant  "sons  of  liberty."  The  next  morning,  Colonel  Paul 


FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     81 

Revere,  a  very  active  member  of  the  patriotic  society  just 
mentioned,  was  despatched,  by  Dr  Joseph  Warren,  to  John 
Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams,  then  at  Lexington,  whose 
seizure  was  threatened  by  the  royal  governor.  So  early  did 
these  distinguished  patriots  receive  the  intelligence,  that 
preparations  for  an  important  movement  were  on  foot !  Just- 
ly considering,  however,  that  some  object  besides  the  seizure 
of  two  individuals  was  probably  designed  in  the  movement 
of  so  large  a  force,  they  advised  the  Committee  of  Safety  to 
order  the  distribution,  into  the  neighboring  towns,  of  the 
stores  c Elected  at  Concord.  Colonel  Revere,  on  his  return 
from  this  excursion  on  the  sixteenth  of  April,  in  order  to 
guard  against  any  accident  which  might  make  it  impossible 
at  the  last  moment  to  give  information  from  Boston  of  the 
departure  of  the  troops,  concerted  with  his  friends  in  Charles- 
town,  that,  whenever  the  British  forces  should  embark  in 
their  boats  to  cross  into  the  country,  two  lanterns  should  be 
lighted  in  the  North  Church  steeple  ;  and  one,  should  they 
march  out  by  Roxbury. 

Thus  was  the  meditated  blow  prepared  for.  before  it  was 
struck  ;  and  the  caution  of  the  British  commander  was 
rendered  unavailing,  who,  on  Tuesday,  the  eighteenth  of 
April,  despatched  ten  sergeants,  with  orders  to  dine  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  at  nightfall  to  scatter  themselves  on  the  roads 
from  Boston  to  Concord,  to  prevent  notice  of  the  projected 
expedition  from  reaching  the  country. 

At  length  the  momentous  hour  arrives,  as  big  with  conse- 
quences to  man  as  any  that  ever  struck  in  his  history.  The 
darkness  of  night  still  shrouds  the  rash  and  fatal  measures 
with  which  the  liberty  of  America  is  hastened  on.  The 
highest  officers  in  the  British  army  are  as  yet  ignorant  of  the 
nature  of  the  meditated  blow.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing of  the  eighteenth.  Lord  Percy  is  sent  for  by  the  governor, 
to  receive  the  information  of  the  design.  On  his  way  back 
to  his  lodgings,  he  finds  the  very  movements,  which  had  been 
just  communicated  to  him  in  confidence  by  the  commander- 
in-chief,  a  subject  of  conversation  in  a  group  of  patriotic 
citizens  in  the  street.  He  hastens  back  to  General  Gage, 

VOL.   I.  11 


82     FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

and  tells  him  he  is  betrayed  ;  and  orders  are  instantly  given 
to  permit  no  American  to  leave  the  town.  But  the  order  is 
five  minutes  too  late.  Dr  Warren,  the  president  of  the 
Committee  of  Safety,  though  he  had  returned  only  at  night- 
fall from  the  meeting  at  West  Cambridge,  was  already  in 
possession  of  the  whole  design  ;  and  instantly  despatched 
two  messengers  to  Lexington  —  Mr  William  Dawes,  who 
went  out  through  Roxbury,  and  Colonel  Paul  Revere,  who 
crossed  to  Charlestown.  The  latter  received  this  summons 
at  ten  o'clock,  on  Tuesday  night ;  the  lanterns  were  imme- 
diately lighted  up  in  North  Church  steeple  ;  and  in  this  way, 
before  a  man  of  the  soldiery  was  embarked  in  the  boats,  the 
news  of  their  coming  was  travelling  with  the  rapidity  of  light 
through  the  country.* 

Having  accomplished  this  precautionary  measure,  Colonel 
Revere  repaired  to  the  north  part  of  the  town,  where  he 
constantly  kept  a  boat  in  readiness,  in  which  he  was  now 
rowed  by  tAvo  friends  across  the  river,  a  little  to  the  eastward 
of  the  spot  where  the  Somerset  man-of-war  was  moored, 
between  Boston  and  Charlestown.  It  was  then  young  flood, 
the  ship  was  swinging  round  upon  the  tide,  and  the  moon 
was  just  rising  upon  this  midnight  scene  of  solemn  anticipa- 
tion. Colonel  Revere  was  safely  landed  in  Charlestown, 
where  his  signals  had  already  been  observed.  He  procured  a 
horse  from  Deacon  Larkin,  for  the  further  pursuit  of  his 
errand.  That  he  would  not  be  permitted  to  accomplish  it, 
without  risk  of  interruption,  was  evident  from  the  informa- 
tion which  he  received  from  Mr  Richard  Devens,  a  member 
of  the  Committee  of  Safety,  that  on  his  way  from  West 
Cambridge,  where  the  committee  sat,  he  had  encountered 
several  British  officers,  well  armed  and  mounted,  going  up 
the  road. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  Colonel  Revere  started  upon  his  errand. 
After  passing  Charlestown  Neck,  he  saw  two  men  on  horse- 
back under  a  tree.  On  approaching  them,  he  perceived  them 
by  the  light  of  the  moon  to  be  British  officers.  One  of  them 

*  See  note  A. 


FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION  83 

immediately  tried  to  intercept,  and  the  other  to  seize  him. 
The  colonel  instantly  turned  back  towards  Charlestown,  and 
then  struck  into  the  Medford  road.  The  officer  in  pursuit  of 
him,  endeavoring  to  cut  him  off,  plunged  into  a  clay  pond,  in 
the  corner  between  the  two  roads,  and  the  colonel  escaped. 
He  pursued  his  way  to  Medford,  awoke  the  captain  of  the 
minute  men  there,  and  giving  the  alarm  at  every  house  on 
the  road,  passed  on  through  West  Cambridge  to  Lexing- 
ton. There  he  delivered  his  message  to  Messrs  Hancock 
and  Adams,  and  there  also  he  was  shortly  after  joined  by 
Mr  William  Dawes,  the  messenger  who  had  gone  out  by 
Roxbury. 

After  staying  a  short  time  at  Lexington,  Messrs  Revere  and 
Dawes,  at  about  one  o'clock  of  the  morning  of  the  nineteenth 
of  April,  started  for  Concord,  to  communicate  the  intelligence 
there.  They  were  soon  overtaken  on  the  way  by  Dr  Samuel 
Prescott,  of  Concord,  who  joined  them  in  giving  the  alarm  at 
every  house  on  the  road.  About  half  way  from  Lexington  to 
Concord,  while  Dawes  and  Prescott  were  alarming  a  house 
on  the  road,  Revere,  being  about  one  hundred  rods  in  advance, 
saw  two  officers  in  the  road  of  the  same  appearance  as  those 
he  had  escaped  in  Charlestown.  He  called  to  his  companions 
to  assist  him  in  forcing  his  way  through  them,  but  was 
instantly  surrounded  by  four  officers.  These  officers  had  pre- 
viously thrown  down  the  wall  of  an  adjoining  field,  and  the 
Americans,  prevented  from  forcing  their  way  onward,  passed 
into  the  field.  Dr  Prescott,  although  the  reins  of  his  horse 
had  been  cut  in  the  struggle  with  the  officers,  succeeded,  by 
leaping  a  stone  wall,  in  making  his  escape  from  the  field,  and 
reaching  Concord.  Revere  aimed  at  a  wood,  but  was  there 
encountered  by  six  more  officers,  and  was,  with  his  compan- 
ion, made  prisoner.  The  British  officers,  who  had  already 
seized  three  other  Americans,  having  learned  from  their  pris- 
oners that  the  whole  country  was  alarmed,  thought  it  best  for 
their  own  safety  to  hasten  back,  taking  their  prisoners  with 
them.  Near  Lexington  meeting-house,  on  their  return,  the 
British  officers  heard  the  militia,  who  were  on  parade,  firing  a 
volley  of  guns.  Alarmed  at  this,  they  compelled  Revere  to 


84  FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

give  up  his  horse,  and  then,  pushing  forward  at  a  full  gallop, 
escaped  down  the  road. 

The  morning  was  now  advanced  to  about  four  o'clock  ;  nor 
was  it  then  known  at  Lexington  that  the  British  troops  were  so 
near  at  hand.  Colonel  Revere  again  sought  Messrs  Hancock 
and  Adams  at  the  house  of  the  Reverend  Mr  Clark  ;  and  it  was 
thought  expedient  by  their  friends,  who  had  kept  watch  there 
during  the  night,  that  these  eminent  patriots  should  remove 
towards  Woburn.  Having  accompanied  them  to  a  house  on 
the  Woburn  road,  where  they  proposed  to  stop,  Colonel 
Revere  returned  to  Lexington  to  watch  the  progress  of  events. 
He  soon  met  a  person  at  full  gallop,  who  informed  him  that 
the  British  forces  were  coming  up  the  road.  Hastening  now 
to  the  public  house,  to  secure  some  papers  of  Messrs  Han- 
cock and  Adams,  Colonel  Revere  saw  the  advancing  troops  in 
full  array. 

It  was  now  seven  hours  since  these  troops  were  put  in 
motion.  They  were  mustered,  at  ten  o'clock  of  the  night 
preceding,  on  the  Common,  in  Boston,  and  embarked,  to  the 
number  of  eight  hundred  grenadiers  and  light  infantry,  in  the 
boats  of  the  British  squadron.  They  landed  at  Phipps's  Farm, 
a  little  to  the  south  of  Lechmere's  Point,  East  Cambridge,  and 
on  disembarking,  a  day's  provision  was  dealt  out  to  them. 
Pursuing  the  path  across  the  marshes,  they  emerged  into  the 
old  Charlestown  and  West  Cambridge  road. 

And  here  let  us  pause  a  moment  in  the  narration,  to  ask, 
who  are  the  men,  and  what  is  the  cause  ?  Is  it  an  army  of 
Frenchmen  and  Canadians,  who  in  earlier  days  had  often  run 
the  line  between  them  and  us,  with  havoc  and  fire,  and  who 
have  now  come  to  pay  back  the  debt  of  recent  defeat  and 
subjugation  ?  Or  is  it  their  ancient  ally  of  the  woods,  the 
stealthy  savage,  —  borne  in  his  light  canoe,  with  muffled  oars, 
over  the  midnight  waters,  —  creeping  like  the  felon  wolf 
through  our  villages,  that  he  may  start  up  at  dawn,  to  wage  a 
war  of  surprise,  of  plunder,  and  of  death,  against  the  slum- 
bering cradle  and  the  defenceless  fireside  ?  O,  no !  It  is  the 
disciplined  armies  of  a  brave,  a  Christian,  a  kindred  people  ; 
led  by  gallant  officers,  the  choice  sons  of  England  ;  and  they 


FIRoT    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  85 

are  going  to  seize,  and  secure  for  the  halter,  men  whose  crime 
is,  that  they  have  dared  to  utter,  in  the  English  tongue,  on 
this  side  of  the  ocean,  the  principles  which  gave  and  give 
England  her  standing  among  the  nations ;  they  are  going  to 
plunge  their  swords  in  the  breasts  of  men  who,  fifteen  years 
before,  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  fought  and  conquered  by 
their  side.  But  they  go  not  unobserved  ;  the  tidings  of  their 
approach  are  travelling  before  them ;  the  faithful  messengers 
have  aroused  the  citizens  from  their  slumbers ;  alarm  guns  aro 
answering  to  each  other,  and  spreading  the  news  from  village 
to  village ;  the  tocsin  is  heard,  at  this  unnatural  hour,  from 
steeples  that  never  before  rung  with  any  other  summons  than 
that  of  the  gospel  "of  peace ;  tne  sacred  tranquillity  of  the 
hour  is  startled  with  all  the  mingled  sounds  of  preparation  — 
of  resolute  though  unorganized  resistance. 

The  Committee  of  Safety,  as  has  been  observed,  had  met 
the  preceding  day  at  West  Cambridge :  and  three  of  its 
respected  members,  Gerry,  Lee,  and  Orne,  had  retired  to  sleep 
in  the  public  house,  where  the  session  of  the  committee  was 
held.  So  difficult  was  it,  notwithstanding  all  that  had  passed, 
to  believe  that  a  state  of  things  could  exist,  between  England 
and  America,  in  which  American  citizens  should  be  liable  to 
be  torn  from  their  beds  by  an  armed  force  at  midnight,  that 
the  members  of  the  Committee  of  Safety,  though  forewarned 
of  the  approach  .of  the  British  troops,  did  not  even  think  it 
necessary  to  retire  from  their  lodgings.  On  the  contrary,  they 
rose  from  their  beds  and  went  to  their  windows  to  gaze  on 
the  unwonted  sight  —  the  midnight  march  of  armies  through 
the  peaceful  hamlets  of  New  England.  Half  the  column  had 
already  passed,  when  a  flank  guard  was  suddenly  detached  to 
search  the  public  house,  no  doubt  in  the  design  of  arresting 
the  members  of  the  Committee  of  Safety,  who  might  be 
there.  It  was  only  at  this  last  critical  moment,  that  Mr  Gerry 
and  his  friends  bethought  themselves  of  flight,  and,  without 
time  even  to  clothe  themselves,  escaped  into  the  fields. 

By  this  time,  Colonel  Smith,  who  commanded  the  expedi- 
tion, appears  to  have  been  alarmed  at  the  indications  of  a 
general  rising  throughout  the  country.  The  light  infantry 


86  FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

companies  were  now  detached  and  placed  under  the  command 
of  Major  Pitcairn,  for  the  purpose  of  hastening  forward  to 
secure  the  bridges  at  Concord,  and  thus  cut  off  the  commu- 
nication between  this  place  and  the  towns  north  and  west  of 
it.  Before  these  companies  could  reach  Lexington,  the  offi- 
cers already  mentioned,  who  had  arrested  Colonel  Revere, 
joined  their  advancing  countrymen,  and  reported  that  five 
hundred  men  were  drawn  up  in  Lexington,  to  resist  the  king's 
troops.  On  receiving  this  highly  exaggerated  account,  the 
British  light  infantry  was  halted,  to  give  time  for  the  grena- 
diers to  come  up. 

The  company  assembled  on  Lexington  Green,  which  the 
British  officers,  in  their  report,  had  swelled  to  five  hundred, 
consited  of  sixty  or  seventy  of  the  militia  of  the  place. 
Information  had  been  received  about  nightfall,  both  by  private 
means  and  by  communications  from  the  Committee  of  Safety, 
that  a  strong  party  of  officers  had  been  seen  on  the  road, 
directing  their  course  towards  Lexington.  In  consequence  of 
this  intelligence,  a  body  of  about  thirty  of  the  militia,  well 
armedi  assembled  early  in  the  evening  ;  a  guard  of  eight  men 
under  Colonel  William  Munroe,  then  a  sergeant  in  the  com- 
pany, was  stationed  at  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clark ;  and 
three  men  were  sent  off  to  give  the  alarm  at  Concord.  These 
three  messengers  were,  however,  stopped  on  their  way,  as  has 
been  mentioned,  by  the  British  officers,  who  had  already 
passed  onward.  One  of  their  number,  Elijah  Sanderson,  has 
lately  died  at  Salem,  at  an  advanced  age.  A  little  after 
midnight,  as  has  been  stated,  Messrs.  Revere  and  Dawes 
arrived  with  the  certain  information  that  a  very  large  body  of 
the  royal  troops  was  in  motion.  The  alarm  was  now  gener- 
ally given  to  the  inhabitants  of  Lexington,  messengers  were 
sent  down  the  road  to  ascertain  the  movements  of  the  troops, 
and  the  militia  company  under  Captain  John  Parker  appeared 
on  the  green  to  the  number  of  one  hundred  and  thirty.  The 
roll  was  duly  called  at  this  perilous  midnight  muster,  and 
some  answered  to  their  names  for  the  last  time  on  earth.  The 
company  was  now  ordered  to  load  with  powder  and  ball,  and 
awaited  in  anxious  expectation  the  return  of  those  who  had 


FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     87 

been  sent  to  reconnoitre  the  enemy.  One  of  them,  in  conse- 
quence of  some  misinformation,  returned  and  reported  that 
there  was  no  appearance  of  troops  on  the  road  from  Boston. 
Under  this  harassing  uncertainty  and  contradiction,  the  militia 
were  dismissed,  to  await  the  return  of  the  other  expresses, 
and  with  orders  to  be  in  readiness  at  the  beat  of  the  drum. 
One  of  these  messengers  was  made  prisoner  by  the  British, 
whose  march  was  so  cautious,  that  they  remained  undiscov- 
ered till  within  a  mile  and  a  half  of  Lexington  meeting- 
house, and  time  was  scarce  left  for  the  last  messenger  to 
return  with  the  tidings  of  their  approach. 

The  new  alarm  was  now  given ;  the  bell  rings,  alarm  guns 
are  fired,  the  drum  beats  to  arms.  Some  of  the  militia  had 
gone  home,  when  dismissed ;  but  the  greater  part  were  in  the 
neighboring  houses,  and  instantly  obeyed  the  summons. 
Sixty  or  seventy  appeared  on  the  green,  and  were  drawn  up 
in  double  ranks.  At  this  moment,  the  British  column  of  eight 
hundred  bayonets  appears,  headed  by  their  mounted  com- 
manders, their  banners  flying  and  drums  beating  a  charge. 
To  engage  them  with  a  handful  of  militia  of  course  was 
madness,  —  to  fly  at  the  sight  of  them  they  disdained.  The 
British  troops  rush  furiously  on ;  their  commander,  with 
mingled  threats  and  oaths,  bids  the  Americans  lay  down 
their  arms  and  disperse,  and  his  own  troops  to  fire.  A  mo- 
ment's delay,  as  of  compunction,  follows.  The  order,  with 
vehement  imprecations,  is  repeated,  and  they  fire.  No  one 
falls,  and  the  band  of  self-devoted  heroes,  most  of  whom  prob- 
ably had  never  seen  a  body  of  troops  before,  stand  firm  in  the 
front  of  an  army  outnumbering  them  ten  to  one.  Another  vol- 
ley succeeds ;  the  killed  and  wounded  drop,  and  it  was  not  till 
they  had  returned  the  fire  of  the  overwhelming  force  that  the 
militia  were  driven  from  the  field.  A  scattered  fire  now 
succeeded  on  both  sides,  while  the  Americans  remained  in 
sight ;  and  the  British  troops  were  then  drawn  up  on  the 
green,  to  fire  a  volley  and  give  a  shout  in  honor  of  the 
victory.* 

While  these  incidents  were  taking  place,  and  every  moment 

*  See  note  B. 


88     FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

then  came  charged  with  events  which  were  to  give  a  charac- 
ter to  centuries,  Hancock  and  Adams,  though  removed  by 
their  friends  from  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  force  sent  to 
apprehend  them,  were  apprised,  too  faithfully,  that  the  work 
of  death  was  begun.  The  heavy  and  quick-repeated  volleys 
told  them  a  tale  that  needed  no  exposition, — which  pro- 
claimed that  Great  Britain  had  severed  that  strong  tie  which 
bound  the  descendants  of  England  to  the  land  of  their  fathers, 
and  had  appealed  to  the  right  of  the  strongest.  The  inevi- 
table train  of  consequences  burst  in  prophetic  fulness  upon 
their  minds ;  and  the  patriot  Adams,  forgetting  the  scenes  of 
tribulation  through  which  America  must  pass  to  realize  the 
prospect,  and  heedless  that  the  ministers  of  vengeance  were 
in  close  pursuit  of  his  own  life,  uttered  that  memorable  ex- 
clamation, equal  to  any  thing  that  can  be  found  in  the  records 
of  Grecian  or  Roman  heroism  —  "  O,  what  a  glorious  morn- 
ing is  this  !  " 

Elated  with  its  success,  the  British  ctrmy  took  up  its  march 
towards  Concord.  The  intelligence  of  the  projected  expedi- 
tion had  been  cpmmunicated  to  this  town  by  Dr  Samuel 
Prescott,  in  the  manner  already  described ,  and  from  Concord 
had  travelled  onward  in  every  direction.  The  interval  was 
employed  in  removing  a  portion  of  the  public  stores  to  the 
neighboring  towns,  while  the  aged  and  infirm,  the  women 
and  children,  sought  refuge  in  the  surrounding  woods. 
About  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  glittering  arms  of 
the  hostile  column  were  seen  advancing  on  the  Lincoln  road. 
A  body  of  militia,  from  one  hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hundred 
men,  who  had  taken  post  for  observation  on  the  heights  above 
the  entrance  to  the  town,  retire  at  the  approach  of  the  army 
of  the  enemy,  first  to  the  hill  a  little  farther  north,  and  then 
beyond  the  bridge.  The  British  troops  press  forward  into 
the  town,  and  are  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  court  house. 
Parties  are  then  ordered  out  to  the  various  spots  where  the 
public  stores  and  arms  were  supposed  to  be  deposited.  Much 
had  been  removed  to  places  of  safety,  and  something  was 
saved  by  the  prompt  and  innocent  artifices  of  individuals. 
The  destruction  of  property  and  of  arms  was  hasty  and 


FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  89 

incomplete,  and,  considered  as  the  object  of  an  enterprise  of 
such  fatal  consequences,  it  stands  in  shocking  contrast  with 
the  waste  of  blood  by  which  it  was  effected. 

I  am  relating  events  whicft,  though  they  can  never  be 
repeated  more  frequently  than  they  deserve,  are  yet  familiar 
to  most  who  hear  me.  I  need  not  therefore  attempt,  nor 
would  it  be  practicable  did  I  attempt  it,  to  recall  the  numer- 
ous interesting  occurrences  of  that  ever-memorable  day. 
The  reasonable  limits  of  a  public  discourse  must  confine  us 
to  a  selection  of  the  more  prominent  incidents. 

It  was  the  first  care  of  the  British  commander  to  cut  off 
the  approach  of  the  Americans  from  the  neighboring  towns 
by  destroying  or  occupying  the  bridges.  A  party  was  imme- 
diately sent  to  the  south  bridge,  and  tore  it  up.  A  force  of 
six  companies,  under  Captains  Parsons  and  Lowrie,  was  sent 
to  the  north  bridge.  Three  companies  under  Captain  Lowrie 
were  left  to  guard  it,  and  three  under  Captain  Parsons  pro- 
ceeded to  Colonel  Barrett's  house  in  search  of  provincial 
stores.  While  they  were  engaged  on  that  errand,  the  militia 
of  Concord,  joined  by  their  brave  brethren  from  the  neigh- 
boring towns,  gathered  on  the  hill  opposite  the  north  bridge, 
under  the  command  of  Colonel  Robinson  and  Major  Buttrick. 
The  British  companies  at  the  bridge  were  now  apparently 
bewildered  with  the  perils  of  their  situation,  and  began  to 
tear  up  the  planks  of  the  bridge  ;  not  remembering  that  this 
would  expose  their  own  party,  then  at  Colonel  Barrett's,  to 
certain  destruction.  The  Americans,  on  the  other  hand, 
resolved  to  keep  open  the  communication  with  the  town,  and 
perceiving  the  attempt  which  was  made  to  destroy  the  bridge, 
were  immediately  put  in  motion,  with  orders  not  to  give  the 
first  fire.  They  drew  near  to  the  bridge,  the  Acton  company 
in  front,  led  on  by  the  gallant  Davis.  Three  alarm  guns 
were  fired  into  the  water,  by  the  British,  without  arresting 
the  march  of  our  citizens.  The  signal  for  a  general  dis- 
charge is  then  made  —  a  British  soldier  steps  from  the  ranks, 
and  fires  at  Major  Buttrick.  The  ball  passed  between  his 
arm  and  his  side,  and  slightly  wounded  Mr  Luther  Blanchard, 
who  stood  near  him.  A  volley  instantly  followed,  and  Cap- 

VOL.   I.  12 


90  FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

tain  Davis  was  shot  through  the  heart,  gallantly  marching  at 
the  head  of  the  Acton  militia  against  the  choice  troops  of  the 
British  line.  A  private  of  his  company,  Hosrher,  of  Acton, 
also  fell  at  his  side.  A  general  action  now  ensued,  which, 
after  the  loss  of  several  killed  and  wounded,  terminated  in  the 
retreat  of  the  British  party  towards  the  centre  of  the  town, 
followed  by  the  brave  band  who  had  driven  them  from  their 
post.  The  advance  party  at  Colonel  Barrett's  was  thus  left 
to  its  fate ;  and  nothing  would  have  been  more  easy  than  to 
effect  its  entire  destruction.  But  the  idea  of  a  declared  war 
had  not  yet  forced  itself,  with  all  its  consequences,  into  the 
minds  of  our  countrymen ;  and  these  advanced  companies 
were  allowed  to  return  unmolested  to  the  main  band. 

It  was  now  twelve  hours  since  the  first  alarm  had  been 
given,  the  evening  before,  of  the  meditated  expedition. 
The  swift  watches  of  that  eventful  night  had  scattered  the 
tidings  far  and  wide ;  and,  widely  as  they  spread,  the 
people  rose  in  their  strength.  The  indignant  yeomanry  of 
the  land,  armed  with  the  weapons  which  had  done  service  in 
their  fathers'  hands,  poured  to  the  spot  where  this  new  and 
strange  tragedy  was  acting.  The  old  New  England  drums, 
that  had  beat  at  Louisburg,  at  Quebec,  at  Martinique,  at  the 
Havana,  were  now  sounding  on  all  the  roads  to  Concord. 
There  were  officers  in  the  British  line  that  knew  the  sound  ; 
they  had  heard  it  in  the  deadly  breach,  beneath  the  black, 
deep-throated  engines  of  the  French  and  Spanish  castles,  and 
they  knew  what  followed,  where  that  sound  went  before. 
With  the  British,  it  was  a  question  no  longer  of  protracted 
contest,  nor  even  of  halting  long  enough  to  rest  their  ex- 
hausted troops,  after  a  weary  night's  march,  and  all  the  labor, 
confusion,  and  distress  of  the  day's  efforts.  Their  dead  were 
hastily  buried  in  the  public  square  ;  their  wounded  placed  in 
the  vehicles  which  the  town  afforded  ;  and  a  flight  com- 
menced, to  which  the  annals  of  warfare  will  hardly  afford  a 
parallel.  On  all  the  neighboring  hills  were  multitudes,  from 
the  surrounding  country,  of  the  unarmed  and  infirm,  of 
women  and  children,  who  had  fled  from  the  terrors  and 
the  perils  of  the  plunder  and  conflagration  of  their  homes ;  or 


FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     91 

were  collected,  with  fearful  curiosity,  to  mark  the  progress  of 
this  storm  of  war.  The  panic  fears  of  a  calamitous  flight, 
on  the  part  of  the  British,  transformed  this  inoffensive,  timid 
throng  into  a  threatening  array  of  armed  men  ;  and  there  was 
too  much  reason  for  the  misconception.  Every  height  of 
ground,  within  reach  of  the  line  of  march,  was  covered  with 
the  indignant  avengers  of  their  slaughtered  brethren.  The 
British  light  companies  were  se'nt  out  to  great  distances,, as 
flanking  parties  ;  but  who  was  to  flank  the  flankers  ?  Every 
patch  of  trees,  every  rock,  every  stream  of  water,  every 
building,  every  stone  wall,  was  lined  (I  use  the  words  of  a 
British  officer  in  the  battle)  with  an  unintermitted  fire. 
Every  cross  road  opened  a  new  avenue  to  the  assailants. 
Through  one  of  these,  the  gallant  Brooks  led  up  the  minute 
men  of  Reading.  At  another  defile,  they  were  encountered 
by  the  Lexington  militia,  under"  Captain  Parker,  who,  undis- 
mayed at  the  loss  of  more  than  a  tenth  of  their  number  in 
killed  and  wounded  in  the  morning,  had  returned  to  the  con- 
flict. At  first,  the  contest  was  kept  up  by  the  British  with 
all  the  skill  and  valor  of  veteran  troops.  To  a  military  eye. 
it  was  not  an  unequal  contest.  The  commander  was  not,  or 
ought  not  to  have  been,  taken  by  surprise.  Eight  hundred 
picked  men,  grenadiers  and  light  infantry,  from  the  English 
army,  were  no  doubt  considered  by  General  Gage  an  ample 
detachment  to  march  eighteen  or  twenty  miles  through  an 
open  country,  and  a  very  fair  match  for  all  the  resistance 
which  could  be  made  by  unprepared  husbandmen,  without 
concert,  discipline,  or  leaders.  A  British  historian,  to  paint 
the  terrific  aspect  of  things  that  presented  itself  to  his  coun- 
trymen, declares  that  the  rebels  swarmed  upon  the  hills,  as  if 
they  dropped  from  the  clouds.  Before  the  flying  troops  had 
reached  Lexington,  their  rout  was  entire.  Some  of  the  offi- 
cers had  been  made  prisoners,  some  had  been  killed,  and 
several  wounded,  and  among  them  the  Commander-in-chief, 
Colonel  Smith.  The  ordinary  means  of  preserving  discipline 
failed  ;  the  wounded,  in  chaises  and  wagons,  pressed  to  the 
front,  and  obstructed  the  road  ;  wherever  the  flanking  parties, 
from  the  nature  of  the  ground,  were  forced  to  come  in,  the 


92  FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

line  of  march  was  crowded  and  broken  ;  the  ammunition 
began  to  fail ;  and  at  length  the  entire  body  was  on  a  full 
run.  "  We  attempted,"  says  a  British  officer  already  quoted, 
"  to  stop  the  men,  and  form  them  two  deep,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose ;  the  confusion  rather  increased  than  lessened."  An 
English  historian  says,  the  British  soldiers  were  driven  before 
the  Americans  like  sheep  ;  till,  by  a  last  desperate  effort,  the 
officers  succeeded  in  forcing  their  way  to  the  front,  "  when 
they  presented  their  swords  and  bayonets  against  the  breasts 
of  their  own  men,  and  told  them,  if  they  advanced,  they 
should  die."  Upon  this,  they  began  to  form,  under  what  the 
same  British  officer  pronounces  "  a  very  heavy  fire,"  which 
must  soon  have  led  to  the  destruction  or  capture  of  the  whole 
corps. 

At  this  critical  moment,  a  reenforcement  arrived.  Colonel 
Smith  had  sent  back  a  messenger  from  Lexington,  to  apprise 
General  Gage  of  the  check  he  had  there  received,  and  of  the 
alarm  which  was  running  through  the  country.  Three  regi- 
ments of  infantry  and  two  divisions  of  marines,  with  two 
field-pieces,  under  the  command  of  Brigadier-General  Lord 
Percy,  were  accordingly  detached.  They  marched  out  of 
Boston,  through  Roxbury  and  Cambridge,*  and  came  up  with 
the  flying  party  in  the  hour  of  their  extreme  peril.  While 
their  field-pieces  kept  the  Americans  at  bay,  the  reenforcement 
drew  up  in  a  hollow  square,  into  which,  says  the  British 
historian,  they  received  the  exhausted  fugitives,  "who  lay 
down  on  the  ground,  with  their  tongues  hanging  from  their 
mouths,  like  dogs  after  a  chase." 

A  half  hour  was  given  to  rest ;  the  march  was  then  re- 
sumed ;  and,  under  cover  of  the  field-pieces,  every  house  in 
Lexington,  and  on  the  road  downwards,  was  plundered  and 
set  on  fire.  Though  the  flames,  in  most  cases,  were  speedily 
extinguished,  several  houses  were  destroyed.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  attention  of  a  great  part  of  the  Americans  was  thus 
drawn  off,  and  although  the  British  force  was  now  more  than 
doubled,  their  retreat  still  wore  the  aspect  of  a  flight.  The 

*  See  note  C. 


FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     93 

Americans  filled  the  heights  that  overhung  the  road,  and  at 
every  defile  the  struggle  was  sharp  and  bloody.  At  West 
Cambridge,  the  gallant  Warren,  never  distant  when  danger 
was  to  be  braved,  appeared  in  the  field,  and  a  musket  ball 
soon  cut  off  a  lock  of  hair  from  his  temple.  General  Heath 
was  with  him  ;  nor  does  there  appear,  till  this  moment,  to 
have  been  any  effective  command  among  the  American 
forces. 

Below  West  Cambridge,  the  militia  from  Dorchester,  Rox- 
bury,  and  Brookline  came  up.  The  British  field-pieces  began 
to  lose  their  terror.  A  sharp,  skirmish  followed,  and  many 
fell  on  both  sides.  Indignation  and  outraged  humanity 
struggled  on  the  one  hand,  veteran  discipline  and  desperation 
on  the  other  j  and  the  contest,  in  more  than  one  instance, 
was  man  to  man,  and  bayonet  to  bayonet. 

The  British  officers  had  been  compelled  to  dismount  from 
their  horses,  to  escape  the  certain  destruction  which  attended 
their  exposed  situation.  The  wounded,  to  the  number  of 
two  hundred,  now  presented  the  most  distressing  and  con- 
stantly increasing  obstruction  to  the  progress  of  the  march. 
Near  one  hundred  brave  men  had  fallen  in  this  disastrous 
flight ;  a  considerable  number  had  been  made  prisoners  ;  a 
round  or  two  of  ammunition  only  remained  ;  and  it  was  not 
till  late  in  the  evening,  nearly  twenty-four  hours  from  the 
time  when  the  first  detachment  was  put  in  motion,  that  the 
exhausted  remnant  reached  the  heights  of  Charlestowri.  The 
boats  of  the  vessels  of  war  were  immediately  employed  to 
transport  the  wounded ;  the  remaining  British  troops  in 
Boston  came  over  to  Charlestown,  to  protect  their  weary 
countrymen  during  the  night ;  and,  before  the  close  of  the 
next  day,  the  royal  army  was  formally  besieged  in  Boston. 

Such,  fellow-citizens,  imperfectly  sketched  in  their  outline, 
were  the  events  of  the  day  we  celebrate  ;  a  day  as  important 
as  any  recorded  in  the  history  of  man.  It  is  a  proud  anni- 
versary for  our  neighborhood.  We  have  cause  for  honest 
complacency,  that  when  the  distant  citizen  of  our  own  repub- 
lic, when  the  stranger  from  foreign  lands,  inquires  for  the 
spots  where  the  noble  blood  of  the  revolution  began  to  flow, 


94  FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

where  the  first  battle  of  that  great  and  glorious  contest  was 
fought,  he  is  guided  through  the  villages  of  Middlesex,  to  the 
plains  of  Lexington  and  Concord.  It  is  a  commemoration 
of  our  soil,  to  which  ages,  as  they  pass,  will  add  dignity  and 
interest ;  till  the  names  of  Lexington  and  Concord,  in  the 
annals  of  freedom,  will  stand  by  the  side  of  the  most  honor- 
able names  in  Roman  or  Grecian  story. 

It  was  one  of  those  great  days,  one  of  those  elemental 
occasions  in  the  world's  affairs,  when  the  people  rise  and  act 
for  themselves.  Some  organization  and  preparation  had  been 
made  ;  but  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  with  scarce  any  effect 
on  the  events  of  that  day.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  there 
was  an  efficient  order  given,  the  whole  day,  to  any  body  of 
men  as  large  as  a  regiment.  It  was  the  people,  in  their  first 
capacity,  as  citizens  and  as  freemen,  starting  from  their  beds 
at  midnight,  from  their  firesides,  and  from  their  fields,  to  take 
their  own  cause  into  their  own  hands.  Such  a  spectacle  is 
the  height  of  the  moral  sublime ;  when  the  want  of  every 
thing  is  fully  made  up  by  the  spirit  of  the  cause,  and  the 
soul  within  stands  in  place  of  discipline,  organization,  and 
resources.  In  the  prodigious  efforts  of  a  veteran  army, 
beneath  the  dazzling  splendor  of  their  array,  there  is  some- 
thing revolting  to  the  reflective  mind.  The  ranks  are  filled 
with  the  desperate,  the  mercenary,  the  depraved;  an  iron 
slavery,  by  the  name  of  subordination,  merges  the  free  will 
of  one  hundred  thousand  men  in  the  unqualified  despotism 
of  one  ;  the  humanity,  mercy,  and  remorse,  which  scarce  ever 
desert  the  individual  bosom,  are  sounds  without  a  meaning  to 
that  fearful,  ravenous,  irrational  monster  of  prey,  a  mercenary 
army.  It  is  hard  to  say  who  are  most  to  be  commiserated, 
the  wretched  people  on  whom  it  is  let  loose,  or  the  still  more 
wretched  people  whose  substance  has  been  sucked  out  to 
nourish  it  into  strength  and  fury.  But  in  the  efforts  of  the 
people, — of  the  people  struggling  for  their  rights,  moving, 
not  in  organized,  disciplined  masses,  but  in  their  spontaneous 
action,  man  for  man,  and  heart  for  heart,  — there  is  something 
glorious.  They  can  then  move  forward  without  orders,  act 
together  without  combination,  and  brave  the  flaming  lines  of 


FIRST  BATTLES  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     95 

battle,  without  intrenchments  to  cover  or  walls  to  shield 
them.  No  dissolute  camp  has  worn  off  from  the  feelings  of 
the  youthful  soldier  the  freshness  of  that  home,  where  his 
mother  and  his  sisters  sit  waiting,  with  tearful  eyes  and  aching 
hearts,  to  hear  good  news  from  the  wars ;  no  long  service  in 
the  ranks  of  a  conqueror  has  turned  the  veteran's  heart  into 
marble  ;  their  valor  springs  not  from  recklessness,  from  habit, 
from  indifference  to  the  preservation  of  a  life  knit  by  no 
pledges  to  the  life  of  others.  But  in  the  strength  and  spirit 
of  the  cause  alone  they  act,  they  contend,  they  bleed.  In 
this  they  conquer.  The  people  always  conquer.  They 
always  must  conquer.  Armies  may  be  defeated,  kings  may 
be  overthrown,  and  new  dynasties  imposed,  by  foreign  arms, 
on  an  ignorant  and  slavish  race,  that  care  not  in  what  lan- 
guage the  covenant  of  their  subjection  runs,  nor  in  whose 
name  the  deed  of  their  baiter  and  sale  is  made  out.  But  the 
people  never  invade  ;  and,  when  they  rise  against  the  inva- 
der, are  never  subdued.  If  they  are  driven  from  the  plains, 
they  fly  to  the  mountains.  Steep  rocks  and  everlasting  hills 
are  their  castles ;  the  tangled,  pathless  thicket  their  palisado, 
and  nature,  God,  is  their  ally.  Now  he  overwhelms  the 
hosts  of  their  enemies  beneath  his  drifting  mountains  of  sand  : 
now  he  buries  them  beneath  a  falling  atmosphere  of  polar 
snows  ;  he  lets  loose  his  tempests  on  their  fleets ;  he  puts  a 
folly  into  their  counsels,  a  madness  into  the  hearts  of  their 
leaders  ;  and  never  gave,  and  never  will  give,  a  final  triumph 
over  a  virtuous  and  gallant  people,  resolved  to  be  free. 

There  is  another  reflection  which  deserves  to  be  made, 
while  we  dwell  on  the  events  of  the  nineteenth  of  April.  It 
was  the  work  of  the  country.  The  cities  of  America,  partic- 
ularly the  metropolis  of  our  own  state,  bore  their  part  nobly 
in  the  revolutionary  contest.  It  is  not  unjust  to  say,  that 
much  of  the  spirit  which  animated  America,  particularly 
before  the  great  appeal  to  arms,  grew  out  of  the  comparison 
of  opinions  and  concert  of  feeling,  which  might  not  have 
existed,  without  the  convenience  of  assembling  which  our 
large  towns  afford.  But  if  we  must  look  to  the  city  for  a  part 
of  the  impulse,  we  must  look  to  the  country  at  large  for  the 


96  FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

heart  to  be  moved  —  for  the  strength  and  vigor  to  persevere 
in  the  motion.  It  was  the  great  happiness  of  America,  that 
her  cities  were  no  larger,  no  more  numerous,  no  nearer  to  each 
other ;  that  the  strength,  the  intelligence,  the  spirit  of  the 
people  were  diffused  over  the  country. 

In  most  of  the  old  and  powerful  states  of  Europe,  the 
nation  is  identified  with  the  capital,  and  the  capital  with  the 
court.  France  must  fall  with  the  city  of  Paris,  and  the  city 
of  Paris  with  a  few  courtiers,  cabinet  ministers,  and  princes. 
No  doubt  the  English  ministry  thought  that  by  holding  Bos- 
ton, they  held  New  England  :  that  the  country  was  conquered 
in  advance  by  the  military  occupation  of  the  great  towns. 
They  did  not  know  that  every  town  and  village  in  America 
had  discussed  the  great  questions  at  issue  for  itself ;  and  in  its 
town  meetings,  and  committees  of  correspondence  and  safety, 
had  come  to  the  resolution  that  America  must  not  be  taxed  by 
England.  The  English  government  did  not  understand  — 
we  hardly  understood  ourselves,  till  we  saw  it  in  action  — 
the  operation  of  a  state  of  society  where  every  man  is,  or  may 
be,  a  freeholder,  a  voter  for  every  elective  office,  a  candidate 
for  every  one  ;  where  the  means  of  a  good  education  are  uni- 
versally accessible  ;  where  the  artificial  distinctions  of  society 
are  known  but  in  a  slight  degree  ;  where  glaring  contrasts  of 
condition  are  rarely  met  with ;  where  few  are  raised  by  the 
extreme  of  wealth  above  the  mass,  and  fewer  sunk  by  the 
extreme  of  poverty  beneath  it.  The  English  ministry  had 
not  reasoned  upon  the  natural  growth  of  such  a  soil ;  that  it 
could  not  permanently  bear  either  a  colonial  or  a  monarchical 
government ;  that  the  only  true  and  native  growth  of  such 
a  soil  was  independence  and  republicanism ;  independence, 
because  such  a  country  must  disdain  to  go  over  the  water  to 
find  another  to  protect  it ;  republicanism,  because  the  people 
of  such  a  country  must  disdain  to  look  up  for  protection  to 
any  one  class  among  themselves.  The  entire  action  of  these 
principles  was  unfolded  to  the  world  on  the  nineteenth  of 
April,  1775.  Without  waiting  to  take  an  impulse  from  any 
thing  but  their  own  breasts,  and  in  defiance  of  the  whole 
exerted  powers  of  the  British  empire,  the  yeomanry  of  the 


FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  97 

country  rose  almost  as  a  man,  and  set  their  lives  on  this  dear 
stake  of  liberty. 

When  we  look  back  on  the  condition  in  which  America  stood 
on  the  nineteenth  of  April,  1775,  and  compare  it  with  that  in 
which  it 'stands  this  day,  we  can  fin.d  no  language  of  gratitude 
with  which  to  do  justice  to  those  who  took  the  lead  in  the 
revolutionary  cause.  The  best  gratitude  will  be  an  imitation 
of  their  example.  It  would  be  an  exceedingly  narrow  view 
of  the  part  assigned  to  this  country  on  the  stage  of  the  nations, 
to  consider  the  erection  of  an  independent  and  representative 
government  as  the  only  political  object  at  which  the  revolu- 
tion aimed,  and  the  only  political  improvement  which  our 
duty  requires.  These  are  two  all-important  steps,  indeed,  in 
the  work  of  meliorating  the  state  of  society.  The  first  gives 
the  people  of  America  the  sovereign  power  of  carrying  its 
will  into  execution  ;  the  second  furnishes  an  equitable  and 
convenient  mode  of  ascertaining  what  the  will  of  the  people 
is.  But  shall  we  stop  here  ?  Shall  we  make  no  use  of  these 
two  engines,  by  whose  combined  action  every  individual  mind 
enjoys  a  share  in  the  sovereign  power  of  the  state  ?  Most 
of  the  civil  and  social  institutions  which  still  exist  in  the 
country,  were  brought  by  our  fathers  from  the  Old  World,  and 
are  strongly  impressed  with  the  character  of  the  state  of 
society  which  there  prevails.  Under  the  influence  of  neces- 
sity, these  institutions  have  been  partially  reformed,  and  ren- 
dered, to  a  certain  degree,  harmonious  with  the  nature  of  a 
popular  government.  But  much  remains  to  be  done,  to  make 
the  work  of  revolution  complete.  No  pains  should  be  spared 
to  secure  its  practical  benefits  to  the  whole  people ;  to  lessen, 
if  it  be  not  possible  wholly  to  remove,  the  sad  inequalities  of 
condition ;  to  place  the  advantages  of  a  good  education  within 
the  reach  of  every  individual ;  and  to  add  the  blessings  of 
social  refinement,  high  civilization,  and  moral  and  religious 
culture,  to  those  of  national  independence  and  political  equal- 
ity. In  proportion  as  we  attain  these  ends,  we  shall  be  true 
to  the  spirit  of  the  great  maxim  of  constitutional  govern- 
ments, that  the  voice  of  the  people  is  the  voice  of  God. 

But  it  is  time  to  relieve  your  patience.  I  need  not  labor 
VOL.  i.  13 


98  FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REV«LUTION 

to  impress  you  with  a  sense  of  the  duty  which  devolves  on 
those  whose  sires  achieved  the  ever-memorable  exploits  of 
this  day.  The  lesson,  I  know,  has  not  been  lost  upon  you. 
Nowhere  have  the  spirit  and  principles  of  the  revolution 
preserved  themselves  in  greater  purity.  The  toils  and  suffer- 
ings of  that  day  were  shared  by  a  glorious  band  of  patriots, 
whose  name  was  your  boast  while  living,  whose  memory 
you  will  never  cease  to  chevisli.  The  day  we  commemorate 
called  the  noble  farmer  of  Middlesex  —  the  heroic  Prescott  — 
to  the  field,  and  impelled  him  not  to  accept,  but  to  solicit,  the 
post  of  honor  and  danger  on  the  seventeenth  of  June  ;  —  noble 
I  call  him  ;  for  when  did  coronet  or  diadem  ever  confer  distinc- 
tion like  the  glory  which  rests  on  that  man's  name  ?  In  the 
perils  of  this  day  the  venerable  Gerry  bore  his  part.  This 
was  the  day  which  called  the  lamented  Brooks  and  Eustis  to 
their  country's  service ;  which  enlisted  them,  blooming  in 
the  freshness  and  beauty  of  youth,  in  that  sacred  cause  to 
which  their  manhood  and  their  age  were  devoted.  The  soil 
which  holds  their  honored  dust  shall  never  be  unworthy  of 
them. 

What  pride  did  you  not  justly  feel  in  that  soil,  when  you 
lately  welcomed  the  nation's  guest  —  the  venerable  champion 
of  America  —  to  the  spot  where  that  first  note  of  struggling 
freedom  was  uttered,  which  sounded  across  the  Atlantic,  and 
drew  him  from  all  the  delights  of  life  to  enlist  in  our  cause ! 
Here,  you  could  tell  him,  our  fathers  fought  and  fell,  before 
they  knew  whether  another  arm  would  be  raised  to  second 
them.  No  Washington  had  appeared  to  lead,  no  La  Fayette 
had  hastened  to  assist,  no  charter  of  independence  had  yet 
breathed  the  breath  of  life  into  the  cause,  when  the  nine- 
teenth of  April  called  our  fathers  to  the  field. 

What  remains,  then,  but  to  guard  the  precious  birthright 
of  our  liberties ;  to  draw  from  the  soil  which  we  inhabit  a 
consistency  in  the  principles  so  nobly  vindicated  and  sa- 
credly sealed  thereon  ?  It  shall  never  be  said,  while  distant 
regions,  wheresoever  the  temples  of  freedom  are  reared,  are 
sending  back  their  thoughts  to  the  plains  of  Lexington  and 
Concord,  for  their  brightest  and  purest  examples  of  patriotic 


FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  99 

daring,  that  we,  whose  lives  are  cast  on  these  favored  spote, 
can  become  indifferent  to  the  exhortation,  which  breathes  to 
us  from  every  sod  of  the  valley.  Those  principles,  which 
others  may  adopt  on  the  colder  ground  of  reason  and  truth, 
we  are  bound  to  support  by  the  dearest  and  deepest  feelings. 
Wheresoever  the  torch  of  liberty  shall  expire,  wheresoever 
the  manly  simplicity  of  our  land  shall  perish  beneath  the 
poison  of  luxury,  wheresoever  the  cause  which  called  our 
fathers  this  day  to  arms,  and  the  principles  which  sustained 
their  hearts  in  that  stern  encounter,  may  be  deserted  or  be- 
trayed, —  it  shall  not,  fellow-citizens,  it  shall  not  be  on  the 
soil  which  was  moistened  with  their  blood.  The  names  of 
Marathon  and  Thermopylae,  after  ages  of  subjection,  still 
nerve  the  arm  of  the  Grecian  patriot ;  and  should  the  foot  of 
a  tyrant,  or  of  a  slave,  approach  these  venerated  spots,  the 
noble  hearts  that  bled  at  Lexington  and  Concord,  "  all  dust  as 
they  are,"  would  beat  beneath  the  sod  with  indignation. 

Honor,  this  day,  to  the  venerable  survivors  of  that  mo- 
mentous day  which  tried  men's  souls.  Great  is  the  happi- 
ness they  are  permitted  to  enjoy,  in  uniting,  within  the 
compass  of  their  own  experience,  the  doubtful  struggles  and 
the  full-blown  prosperity  of  our  happy  land.  May  they  share 
the  welfare  they  witness  around  them ;  it  is  the  work  of  their 
hands,  the  fruit  of  their  toils,  the  price  of  their  lives  freely 
hazarded,  that  their  children  might  live  free.  Bravely  they 
dared  ;  patiently  —  ay,  more  than  patiently  —  heroically, 
piously,  they  suffered;  largely,  richly  may  they  enjoy. 
Most  of  their  companions  are  already  departed ;  let  us  renew 
our  tribute  of  respect  this  day  to  their  honored  memory. 
Numbers  present  will  recollect  the  affecting  solemnities  with 
which  you  accompanied  to  his  last  home  the  brave  and 
lamented  Buttrick.  With  trailing  banners,  and  mournful 
music,  and  all  the  touching  ensigns  of  military  sorrow,  you 
followed  the  bier  of  the  fallen  soldier  over  the  ground  where 
he  led  the  determined  band  of  patriots  on  the  morning  of  the 
revolution. 

But  chiefly  to  those  who  fell ;  to  those  who  stood  in  the 
breach,  at  the  breaking  of  that  day  of  blood  at  Lexington : 


100         FIRST    BATTLES    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

to  those  who  joined  in  battle,  and  died  honorably,  facing  the 
foe  at  Concord ;  to  those  who  fell  in  the  gallant  pursuit  of 
the  flying  enemy, — let  us  this  day  pay  a  tribute  of  grateful 
admiration.  The  old  and  the  young ;  the  gray-haired  vet- 
eran, the  stripling*  in  the  flower  of  youth ;  husbands,  fathers, 
brethren,  sons,  —  they  stood  side  by  side,  arid  fell  together, 
like  the  beauty  of  Israel,  on  their  high  places. 

We  have  founded  this  day  a  monument  to  their  memory. 
When  the  hands  that  rear  it  are  motionless,  when  the  feeble 
Yoice  is  silent,  which  now  speaks  our  fathers'  praise,  the 
graven  stone  shall  bear  witness  to  other  ages  of  our  gratitude 
and  their  worth.  And  ages  still  farther  on,  when  the  monu- 
ment itself,  like  those  who  build  it,  shall  have  crumbled  to 
dust,  the  happy  aspect  of  the  land  which  our  fathers  re- 
deemed shall  remain,  one  common,  eternal  monument  to  their 
memory. 


NOTES. 


NOTE  A,  p.  82. 

THAT  the  lanterns  were  observed  in  Charlestown,  we  are  informed  by 
Colonel  Revere,  in  the  interesting  communication  in  the  Collections  of  the 
Historical  Society,  from  which  this  part  of  the  narrative  is  chiefly  taken. 
A  tradition  by  private  channels  has  descended,  that  these  lanterns  in  the 
North  Church  were  quickly  noticed  by  the  officers  of  the  British  anny  on 
duty  on  the  evening  of  the  18th,  who,  to  prevent  the  alarm  being  commu- 
nicated by  these  signals  into  the  country,  hastened  to  the  church  to  extin- 
guish them.  Their  steps  were  heard  on  the  stairs  in  the  tower  of  the 
church,  by  the  sexton,  who  had  lighted  the  lanterns.  To  escape  discovery, 
he  himself  extinguished  the  lanterns,  and  passing  by  the  officers  on  the 
stairs,  concealed  himself  in  the  vaults  of  the  church.  He  was,  a  day  or 
two  after,  arrested,  while  discharging  the  duties  of  his  office  at  a  funeral, 
tried,  and  condemned  to  death ;  but  respited,  on  a  threat  of  retaliation  from 
General  Washington,  and  finally  exchanged.  This  anecdote  was  related  to 
me,  with  many  circumstances  of  particularity,  by  one  who  had  often  heard 
it  from  the  sexton  himself. 


NOTE  B,  p.  87. 

It  will  be  perceived,  that,  in  drawing  up  the  account  of  the  transactions 
at  Lexington,  reference  has  been  had  to  the  testimony  contained  in  the 
pamphlet  lately  published,  entitled,  "  History  of  the  Battle  at  Lexington,  on 
the  morning  of  the  19th  of  April,  1775.  By  Elias  Phinney."  While  in 
this  pamphlet  several  interesting  facts  are  added,  on  the  strength  of  the 
depositions  of  surviving  actors  in  the  scene  to  the  accounts  previously  ex- 
isting, there  is  nothing,  perhaps,  in  them  which  may  not  be  reconciled  with 
those  previously  existing  accounts,  if  due  allowance  be  made  for  the  sole 
object  for  which  the  latter  were  originally  published,  (to  show  that  the 
British  were  the  aggressors  ;)  for  the  hurry  and  confusion  of  the  moment ; 
and  for  the  different  aspect  of  the  scene,  as  witnessed  by  different  persons, 
from  different  points  of  view.  It  has,  however,  been  my  aim,  not  to  pro- 
nounce on  questions  in  controversy,  but  to  state  the  impression  left  on  my 
own  mind,  after  an  attentive  examination  of  all  the  evidence. 

(101) 


102  NOTES. 


NOTE  C,  p.  92. 

An  interesting  anecdote  relative  to  this  march  of  Lord  Percy  has  been 
communicated  to  me  by  a  veteran  of  the  revolution,  who  bore  his  part  in 
the  events  of  the  day.  Intelligence  having  been  promptly  received  of  Lord 
Percy's  being  detached,  the  selectmen  of  Cambridge,  by  order  of  the  Com- 
mittee of  Safety,  caused  the  planks  of  the  Old  Brighton  Bridge  to  be  taken 
up.  Had  this  been  effectually  done,  it  would  have  arrested  the  progress  of 
Lord  Percy.  But  the  planks,  though  all  taken  up,  instead  of  being  thrown 
into  the  river  or  removed  to  a  distance,  were  piled  up  on  the  causeway,  at 
the  Cambridge  end  of  the  bridge.  But  little  time  was  therefore  lost  by 
Lord  Percy  in  sending  over  men  upon  the  string-pieces  of  the  bridge,  who 
replaced  the  planks,  so  as  to  admit  the  passage  of  the  troops.  This  was, 
however,  so  hastily  and  insecurely  done,  that  when  a  convoy  of  provision 
wagons,  with  a  sergeant's  guard,  which  had  followed  in  the  rear  of  the 
reenforcement,  reached  the  bridge,  the  planks  were  found  to  be  too  loosely 
laid  to  admit  a  safe  passage ;  and  a  good  deal  of  time  was  consumed  in 
adjusting  them.  The  convoy  at  length  passed ;  but  after  such  a  delay,  that 
Lord  Percy's  army  was  out  of  sight  The  officer  who  commanded  the 
convoy  was  unacquainted  with  the  roads,  and  was  misdirected  by  the  in- 
habitants at  Cambridge.  Having,  at  last,  after  much  lost  time,  been  put 
into  the  right  road,  the  body  of  troops  under  Lord  Percy  was  so  far  ad- 
vanced, as  to  afford  the  convoy  no  protection.  A  plan  was  accordingly  laid 
and  executed  by  the  citizens  of  West  Cambridge  (then  Menotomy)  to  arrest 
this  convoy.  The  alarum-list,  or  body  of  exempts,  under  Captain  Frost,  by 
whom  this  exploit  was  effected,  acted  under  the  direction  of  a  negro,  who 
had  served  in  the  French  war,  and  who,  on  this  occasion,  displayed  the 
utmost  skill  and  spirit  The  history  of  Gordon,  and  the  other  accounts 
which  follow  him,  attribute  the  capture  of  the  convoy  to  the  Rev.  Dr 
Payson,  of  Chelsea.  Those  who  have  further  information  alone  can  judge 
between  the  two  accounts.  The  Rev.  Mr  Thaxter,  of  Edgartown,  in  a 
letter  lately  (1825)  published  in  the  "  United  States  Literary  Gazette,"  has 
ascribed  the  same  exploit  to  the  Rev.  Edward  Brooks,  of  Medford.  Mr 
Brooks  early  hastened  to  the  field,  as  a  volunteer,  that  day ;  and  is  said  to 
have  preserved  the  life  of  Lieutenant  Gould,  of  the  18th  regiment,  who  was 
made  prisoner  at  Concord  Bridge ;  but  there  is,  I  believe,  no  ground  foi 
ascribing  to  him  the  conduct  of  the  affair  in  question. 


PRINCIPLE  OF  THE  AMERICAN  CONSTITUTIONS." 


FELLOW-CITIZENS  : 

IT  belongs  to  us,  with  strong  propriety,  to  celebrate  this 
day.  The  town  of  Cambridge  and  the  county  of  Middlesex 
are  filled  with  the  vestiges  of  the  revolution  :  whithersoever 
we  turn  our  eyes,  we  behold  some  memento  of  its  opening 
scenes.  The  first  Provincial  Congress  of  Massachusetts,  after 
its  adjournment  at  Concord,  met  in  the  building  in  which  we 
are  now  assembled.  The  rural  magazine  at  Medford  reminds* 
us  of  one  of  the  earliest  acts  of  British  aggression.  The 
march  of  both  divisions  of  the  royal  army,  on  the  memorable 
nineteenth  of  April,  1775,  was  through  the  limits  of  Cam- 
bridge ;  in  the  neighboring  towns  of  Lexington  and  Concord, 
the  first  blood  of  the  revolution  was  shed  ;  in  West  Cam- 
bridge, the  royal  convoy  of  provisions  was,  the  same  day, 
gallantly  surprised  by  the  aged  citizens,  who  staid  to  protect 
their  homes,  while  their  sons  pursued  the  foe.  Here  the 
first  American  army  was  formed ;  from  this  place,  on  the 
seventeenth  of  June,  was  detached  the  Spartan  band  that 
immortalized  the  heights  of  Charlestown — consecrated  that 
day,  with  blood  and  fire,  to  the  cause  of  American  liberty. 
Beneath  the  venerable  elm  which  still  shades  the  south- 
western corner  of  the  common,  General  Washington  first 
unsheathed  his  sword  at  the  head  of  an  American  army  ;  and 
to  that  seat  f  he  was  wont  every  Sunday  to  repair,  to  join  in 
the  supplications  which  were  made  for  the  welfare  of  his 
country. 

How  changed  is  now  the  scene !     The  din  and  the  desola- 

*  An  Oration  delivered  at  Cambridge,  on  the  4th  of  July,  182(i 
f  The  first  wall  pew  on  the  right  hand  of  the  pulpit 
(103) 


104  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

tion  of  war  are  past ;  Science  has  long  since  resumed  her 
station  within  the  shades  of  our  ancient  University,  no  longer 
glittering  with  arms.  The  anxious  war-council  is  no  longer 
in  session,  to  offer  a  reward  for  the  discovery  of  the  best  mode 
of  making  saltpetre  —  an  unpromising  step  to  be  taken,  when 
an  army  of  twenty  thousand  men  is  in  the  field.  The  grass 
is  growing  in  the  trampled  sallyports  of  some  of  the  rural 
redoubts  that  form  a  part  of  the  simple  lines  of  circumvalla- 
tion,  within  which  a  half-armed  American  militia  held  the 
flower  of  the  British  army  blockaded ;  the  plough  has  done 
what  the  English  batteries  could  not  do,  and  levelled  others 
of  them  with  the  earth ;  and  the  MEN,  the  great  and  good 
men,  —  their  warfare  is  over,  and  -they  have  gone  quietly  down 
to  the  dust  they  redeemed  from  oppression ! 

At  the  close  of  a  half  century  since  the  declaration  of  our 
independence,  we  are  assembled  to  commemorate  that  great 
*and  happy  event.  We  do  not  meet  each  other  and  exchange- 
our  felicitations  because  we  should  otherwise  fall  into  forget- 
fulness  of  this  auspicious  era,  but  because  we  owe  it  to  our 
fathers  and  to  our  children  to  mark  its  return  with  grateful 
festivities.  The  major  part  of  this  assembly  is  composed  of 
those  who  had  not  yet  engaged  in  the  active  scenes  of  life 
when  the  revolution  commenced.  We  come  not  to  applaud 
our  own  work,  but  to  pay  a  filial  tribute  to  the  deeds  of  our 
fathers.  It  was  for  their  children  that  the  heroes  and  sages 
of  the  revolution  labored  and  bled.  They  were  too  wise 
not  to  know  that  it  was  not  personally  their  own  cause  in 
which  they  were  embarked ;  they  felt  that  they  were  en- 
gaging in  an  enterprise  which  an  entire  generation  must 
be  too  short  to  bring  to  its  mature  and  perfect  issue.  The 
most  they  could  promise  themselves  was,  that,  having 
cast  forth  the  seed  of  liberty,  having  watered  it  with  the 
tears  of  waiting  eyes  and  the  blood  of  brave  hearts,  their 
children  might  gather  the  fruit  of  its  branches,  while  those 
who  planted  it  should  moulder  in  peace  beneath  its  shade. 

Nor  was  it  only  in  this  that  we  discern  their  disinterested- 
ness, and  their  heroic  forgetfulness  of  self.  Not  only  was  the 
independence  for  which  they  struggled  a  great  and  arduous 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  105 

adventure,  of  which  they  were  to  encounter  the  risk,  and 
others  to  enjoy  the  benefits;  but  the  oppressions  which 
roused  them  had  assumed,  in  their  day,  no  worse  form  than 
that  of  a  pernicious  principle.  No  intolerable  acts  of  oppres- 
sion had  ground  them  to  the  dust.  They  were  not  slaves, 
rising  in  desperation  from  beneath  the  agonies  of  the  lash, 
but  free  men,  snuffing  from  afar  "the  tainted  gale  of  tyranny." 
The  worst  encroachments  on  which  the  British  ministry  had 
ventured,  might  have  been  borne,  consistently  with  the  prac- 
tical enjoyment  of  many  of  the  advantages  resulting  from 
good  government.  On  the  score  of  interest  alone,  it  would 
have  been  better  for  that  generation  to  pay  the  duties  on 
glass,  painters'  colors,  stamped  paper,  and  tea,  than  to  plunge 
into  the  expenses  of  the  revolutionary  war.  But  they 
thought  not  of  shuffling  off  upon  posterity  the  burden  ol 
resistance.  They  well  understood  the  part  which  Providence 
had  assigned  to  them.  They  perceived  that  they  were  called 
to  discharge  a  high  and  perilous  office  to  the  cause  of  civil 
liberty ;  that  their  hands  were  elected  to  strike  the  blow,  for 
which  near  two  centuries  of  preparation  —  never  remitted, 
though  often  unconscious  —  had  been  making,  on  one  side  or 
the  other  of  the  Atlantic.  They  felt  that  the  colonies  had 
now  reached  that  stage  in  their  growth,  when  the  difficult 
problem  of  colonial  government  must  be  solved.  Difficult,  1 
3all  it,  for  such  it  is  to  the  statesman,  whose  mind  is  not  suf- 
ficiently enlarged  for  the  idea,  that  a  wise  colonial  govern- 
ment must  naturally  and  rightfully  end  in  independence  : 
that  even  a  mild  and  prudent  sway,  on  the  part  of  the  mother 
country,  furnishes  no  reason  for  not  severing  the  bands  of  the 
colonial  subjection ;  and  that  when  the  rising  state  has  passed 
the  period  of  adolescence,  the  only  alternative  which  remains 
is  that  of  a  peaceable  or  violent  separation. 

The  British  ministry,  at  that  time  weaker,  perhaps,  than  it 
had  ever  been  since  the  reign  of  James  II.,  had  no  knowledge 
of  political  science,  but  that  which  they  derived  from  the  text 
of  official  records.  They  drew  their  maxims,  as  it  was  happily 
said  of  one  of  them  that  he  did  his  measures,  from  the  file. 
They  hear  that  a  distant  province  has  resisted  the  execution 

VOL.   I.  14 


106  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

of  an  act  of  parliament.  Indeed,  and  what  is  the  specific,  in 
cases  of  resistance  ?  A  military  force  ;  —  and  two  more 
regiments  are  ordered  to  Boston.  Again  they  hear  that  the 
General  Court  of  Massachusetts  Bay  has  adopted  measures 
subversive  of  the  allegiance  due  to  the  crown.  A  case  of  a 
refractory  corporation.  What  is  to  be  done  ?  First  try  a 
mandamus ;  and  if  that  fails,  seize  the  franchises  into  his 
majesty's  hands.  They  never  asked  the  great  question, 
whether  Providence  has  assigned  no  laws  to  regulate  the 
changes  in  the  condition  of  that  most  astonishing  of  human 
things,  a  nation  of  kindred  men.  They  did  not  inquire,  I 
will  not  say  whether  it  were  rightful  and  expedient,  but 
whether  it  were  practicable,  to  give  law  across  the  Atlantic, 
to  a  people  who  possessed  within  themselves  every  imagina- 
ble element  of  self-government. 

But  though  the  rulers  of  Britain  appear  not  to  have  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  great  principles  involved  in  these  questions, 
there  were  those  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  who  had  asked 
and  answered  them.  They  perceived  that  the  hour  of  sepa- 
ration had  come,  because  a  principle  was  assumed  by  the 
British  government  which  put  an  instantaneous  check  to  the 
further  growth  of  liberty.  Either  the  race  of  civilized  man 
happily  planted  on  our  shores,  at  first  slowly  and  painfully 
reared,  but  at  length  auspiciously  multiplying  in  America,  is 
destined  never  to  constitute  a  free  and  independent  state  ;  or 
these  measures  must  be  resisted,  which  go  to  bind  it  in  a 
mild  but  abject  colonial  vassalage.  Either  the  hope  must  be 
forever  abandoned,  that  a  new  centre  of  civilization  was  to 
be  established  on  the  new  continent,  at  which  the  social  and 
political  institutions  of  the  world  might  be  brought  to  the 
standard  of  reason  and  truth,  after  thousands  of  years  of  de- 
generacy, —  or  the  battle  was  now  to  be  fought,  first  in  the 
political  assemblies,  and  then,  if  need  be,  in  the  field. 

It  can  scarcely  be  said  that  the  battle  was  fought  in  the 
halls  of  legislation.  A  spectacle  indeed  seemed  to  be  prom- 
ised to  the  civilized  world,  of  breathless  interest  and  uncal- 
culated  consequence.  "You  are  placed,"  said  the  Provincial 
Congress  of  Massachusetts,  in  their  address  to  the  inhabitants, 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  107 

of  December  4th,  1774,  promulgated  at  the  close  of  a  session 
held  in  the  house  where  we  are  now  convened,  —  "you  are 
placed  by  Providence  in  a  post  of  honor,  because  it  is  a  post 
of  danger ;  and  while  struggling  for  the  noblest  objects,  the 
liberties  of  our  country,  the  happiness  of  posterity,  and  the 
rights  of  human  nature,  the  eyes  not  only  of  North  America 
and  the  whole  British  empire,  but  of  all  Europe,  are  upon 
you."  *  A  mighty  question  of  political  right  was  at  issue 
between  the  two  hemispheres.  Europe  and  America,  in  the 
face  01  mankind,  are  going  to  plead  the  great  cause  on  which 
the  fate  of  popular  government  forever  is  suspended.  One 
circumstance,  and  one  alone,  exists,  to  diminish  the  interest  of 
the  contention,  —  the  perilous  inequality  of  the  parties,  —  an 
inequality  far  exceeding  that  which  gives  animation  to  a  con- 
test ;  and  so  great  as  to  destroy  the  hope  of  an  ably  waged 
encounter.  On  the  one  side  were  arrayed  the  two  houses  of 
the  British  Parliament,  the  modern  school  of  political  elo- 
quence, the  arena  where  great  minds  had  for  a  century  and  a 
half  strenuously  wrestled  themselves  into  strength  and  power, 
and  in  better  days,  the  common  and  upright  chancery  of  an 
empire  on  which  the  sun  never  set.  Upon  the  other  side 
appeared  the  Colonial  Assemblies  of  Massachusetts  and  Vir- 
ginia, and  the  Continental  Congress  of  Philadelphia,  composed 
of  men  trained  within  a  small  provincial  circuit ;  wanting  till 
now  the  strength  which  the  consciousness  of  a  station  before 
the  world  imparts;  who  brought  no  power  into  the  contest, 
but  that  which  they  drew  from  their  cause  and  their  bosoms. 
It  is  by  champions  like  these,  that  the  great  principles  of  rep- 
resentative government,  of  chartered  rights,  and  constitutional 
liberty,  are  to  be  discussed ;  and  surely  never,  in  the  annals 
of  national  controversy,  was  exhibited  a  triumph  so  complete 
of  the  seemingly  weaker  party,  a  rout  so  disastrous  of  the 
stronger. 

Often  as  it  has  been  repeated,  it  will  bear  another  repeti- 
tion ;  it  never  ought  to  be  omitted  in  the  history  of  constitu- 
tional liberty;  it  ought  especially  to  be  repeated  this  day;  — 

*  Massachusetts  State  Papers,  p.  416. 


108  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

the  various  addresses,  petitions,  and  appeals,  the  correspond- 
ence, the  resolutions,  the  legislative  and  popular  debates,  from 
1764  to  the  declaration  of  independence,  present  a  maturity 
of  political  wisdom,  a  strength  of  argument,  a  gravity  of 
style,  a  manly  eloquence,  and  a  moral  courage,  of  which 
unquestionably  the  modern  world  affords  no  other  example. 
This  meed  of  praise,  substantially  accorded  at  the  time  by 
Lori  Chatham,  in  the  British  Parliament,  may  well  be  repeated 
by  us.  For  most  of  the  venerated  men  to  whom  it  is  paid, 
it  is  but  a  pious  tribute  to  departed  worth.  The  Lees  and  the 
Henrys,  Otis,  Gtuincy,  Warren,  and  Samuel  Adams,  the  men 
who  spoke  those  words  of  thrilling  power,  which  raised  and 
directed  the  storm  of  resistance,  arid  rang  like  the  voice  of 
fate  across  the  Atlantic,  are  beyond  the  reach  of  our  praise. 
To  most  of  them  it  was  granted  to  witness  some  of  the  fruits 
of  their  labors  —  such  fruits  as  revolutions  do  not  often  bear. 
Others  departed  at  an  untimely  hour,  or  nobly  fell  in  the 
onset ;  too  soon  for  their  country,  too  soon,  for  every  thing 
but  their  own  undying  fame.  But  all  are  not  gone ;  some 
still  survive  among  us,  to  hail  the  jubilee  of  the  independence 
they  declared.  Go  back,  fellow-citizens,  to  that  day,  when 
Jefferson  and  Adams  composed  the  sub-committee  who 
reported  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Think  of  the 
mingled  sensations  of  that  proud  but  anxious  day,  compared 
to  the  joy  of  this.  What  reward,  what  crown,  what  treasure, 
could  the  world  and  all  its  kingdoms  afford,  compared  with 
the  honor  and  happiness  of  having  been  united  in  that  com- 
mission, and  living  to  see  its  most  wavering  hopes  turned  into 
glorious  reality  !  Venerable  men,  you  have  outlived  the  dark 
days  which  followed  your  more  than  heroic  deed ;  you  have 
outlived  your  own  strenuous  contention,  who  should  stand 
first  among  the  people  whose  liberty  you  had  vindicated ! 
i^ou  have  lived  to  bear  to  each  other  the  respect  which  the 
nation  bears  to  you  both  ;  and  each  has  been  so  happy  as  to 
exchange  the  honorable  name  of  the  leader  of  a  party,  for 
that  more  honorable  one,  the.  Father  of  his  Country.  While 
this  our  tribute  of  respect,  on  the  jubilee  of  our  independence, 
is  paid  to  the  gray  hairs  of  the  venerable  survivor  in  our  neigh- 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  109 

borhood,  (Adams,)  let  it  not  less  heartily  be  sped  to  him,  (Jef- 
ferson,) whose  hand  traced  the  lines  of  that  sacred  charter, 
which,  to  the  end  of  time,  has  made  this  day  illustrious. 
And  is  an  empty  profession  of  respect  all  that  we  owe  to  the 
man  who  can  show  the  original  draught  of  the  Declaration  of 
the  Independence  of  the  United  States  of  America,  in  his  own 
handwriting  ?  Ought  not  a  title-deed  like  this  to  become  the 
acquisition  of  the  nation  ?  Ought  it  not  to  be  laid  up  in  the 
public  archives  ?  Ought  not  the  price  at  which  it  is  bought 
to  be  a  provision  for  the  ease  arid  comfort  of  the  old  age  of 
him  who  drew  it  ?  Ought  not  he  who,  at  the  age  of  thirty, 
declared  the  independence  of  his  country,  at  the  age  of  eighty, 
to  be  secured  by  his  country  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  own  ?  * 
Nor  would  we,  on  the  return  of  this  eventful  day,  forget 
the  men  who,  when  the  conflict  of  council  was  over,  stood 
forward  in  that  of  arms.  Yet  let  me  not,  by  faintly  endeav- 
oring to  sketch,  do  deep  injustice  to  the  story  of  their  exploits. 
The  efforts  of  a  life  would  scarce  suffice  to  draw  this  pic- 
ture, in  all  its  astonishing  incidents,  in  all  its  mingled  colors 
of  sublimity  and  woe,  of  agon/  and  triumph.  But  the  age 
of  commemoration  is  at  hand.  The  voice  of  our  fathers' 
blood  begins  to  cry  to  us  from  beneath  the  soil  which  it 
moistened.  Time  is  bringing  forward,  in  their  proper  relief, 
the  men  and  the  deeds  of  that  high-souled  day.  The  gen- 
eration of  contemporary  worthies  is  gone ;  the  crowd  of  the 
unsignalized  great  and  good  disappears;  and  the  leaders  in 
war,  as  well  as  the  cabinet,  are  seen,  in  fancy's  eye.  to  take 
their  stations  on  the  mount  of  remembrance.  They  come  from 
the  embattled  cliffs  of  Abraham  ;  they  start  from  the  heaving 
sods  of  Bunker's  Hill ;  they  gather  from  the  blazing  lines  of 
Saratoga  and  Yorktown,  from  the  blood-dyed  waters  of  the 
Brandywine,  from  the  dreary  snows  of  Valley  Forge,  and  all 
the  hard-fought  fields  of  the  war!  With  all  their  wounds 
and  all  their  honors,  they  rise  and  plead  with  us  for  their 


*  About  the  time  these  words  were  spoken,  Thomas  Jefferson  breathed  his 
last,  and  towards  the  close  of  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  (4th  July 
1826,)  John  Adams  also  expired.  See  the  following  address. 


110  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

brethren  who  survive  ;  and  command  us,  if  indeed  we  cherish 
the  memory  of  those  who  bled  in  our  cause,  to  show  our 
gratitude,  not  by  sounding  words,  but  by  stretching  out  the 
strong  arm  of  the  country's  prosperity,  to  help  the  veteran 
survrv  ors  gently  down  to  their  graves ! 

But  it  is  time  to  turn  from  sentiments  like  these,  however 
appropriate,  to  the  more  direct  business  of  the  present  occa- 
sion. The  fiftieth  return  of  this  all-important  day  appears  to 
enjoin  on  us  to  reassert  the  principles  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  Have  we  met,  fellow-citizens,  to  commemo- 
rate merely  the  successful  termination  of  a  war  ?  Certainly 
not.  The  war  of  1756  was  in  its  duration  nearly  equal,  and 
signalized  in  America  by  the  most  brilliant  achievements  of 
the  provincial  arms.  But  no  one  attempts  to  prevent  that 
war,  with  all  its  glorious  incidents,  from  gradually  sinking 
into  the  shadows  which  time  throws  back  on  the  deeds  of 
men.  Do  we  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  our  independence 
merely  because  a  vast  region  was  severed  from  a  European 
empire,  and  established  a  government  for  itself?  Scarcely 
even  this.  The  acquisition  of  Louisiana  —  a  region  larger 
than  the  old  United  States  —  the  immediate  conversion  of  a 
vast  Spanish  colonial  waste  into  free  and  prosperous  members 
of  our  republican  federation  —  the  whole  effected  by  a  single 
happy  exercise  of  the  treaty-making  power  —  this  is  an  event 
ill  nature  not  wholly  unlike,  in  importance  not  altogether 
beneath  the  separation  of  the  colonies  from  England,  regarded 
merely  as  an  historical  transaction.  But  no  one  thinks  of 
commemorating  with  festivals  the  anniversary  of  this  cession  ; 
probably  not  ten  who  hear  me  recollect  the  date  of  the  treaty 
by  which  it  was  effected ;  although  it  is  perhaps  the  most 
important  occurrence  in  our  history,  since  the  adoption  of  the 
constitution,  and  will  no  doubt  be  regarded  by  posterity  as  by 
far  the  most  important  measure  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  adminis- 
tration. 

But  it  is  not  merely  nor  chiefly  the  military  success,  nor  the 
political  event,  which  we  commemorate  on  these  patriotic 
anniversaries.  We  mistake  the  principle  of  our  celebration, 
when  we  speak  of  its  object  either  as  a  trite  theme,  or  as  one 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  Ill 

among  other  important  and  astonishing  incidents  of  the  same 
kind  in  the  world.  The  declaration  of  the  independence  of 
the  United  States  of  America,  considered  on  the  one  hand  as 
the  consummation  of  a  long  train  of  measures  and  counsels  — 
preparatory,  even  though  unconsciously,  of  this  event  —  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  as  the  foundation  of  our  constitutional 
systems,  deserves  commemoration,  as  forming  the  era  from 
which  the  establishment  of  government  on  a  rightful  basis 
will  hereafter  date.  Looking  upon  the  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence as  the  one  prominent  event  which  is  to  represent 
the  American  system,  (and  history  will  so  look  upon  it,)  I 
deem  it  right  in  itself  and  seasonable  this  day  to  express  the 
opinion,  that,  while  all  other  political  revolutions,  reforms, 
and  improvements  have  been,  in  various  ways,  of  the  nature 
of  palliatives  and  alleviations  of  systems  vicious  in  principle, 
this  alone  is  the  great  discovery  in  political  science  ;  the 
practical  fulfilment  of  all  the  theories  of  political  reform 
which  had  amused  the  speculations  and  eluded  the  grasp  of 
statesmen  and  philosophers  of  every  former  period.  Although 
this  festive  hour  affords  but  little  scope  for  dry  disquisition, 
yet  I  shall  not  think  I  wander  from  the  duties  of  the  day  in 
dwelling  briefly  on  the  chain  of  ideas  by  which  we  reach 
this  great  conclusion. 

The  political  organization  of  a  people  is,  of  all  matters  of 
temporal  concernment,  the  most  important.  Drawn  together 
into  that  great  assemblage  which  we  call  a  Nation,  by  the 
social  principle,  some  mode  of  organization  must  exist  among 
men  ;  and  on  that  organization  depends  more  directly,  more 
extensively,  more  permanently  than  on  any  thing  else,  the 
condition  of  the  individual  members  that  make  up  the  com- 
munity. On  the  political  organization  in  which  a  people 
shall  for  generations  have  been  reared,  it  mainly  depends, 
whether  we  shall  behold  in  our  fellow-man  the  New  Holland- 
er, making  a  nauseous  meal  from  the  worms  which  he  ex- 
tracts from  a  piece  of  rotten  wood  ;  *  —  the  African,  cutting 
out  the  under  jaw  of  his  captive  to  be  strung  on  a  wire,  as  a 

*  Malthus's  Essay  on  Population,  Vol.  I.  p.  33,  Amer.  ed. 


112  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS 

trophy  of  victory,  while  the  mangled  wretch  is  left  to  bleed 
to  death  on  the  field  of  battle ;  *  —  or  whether  we  shall 
behold  him  social,  civilized,  and  Christian,  scarcely  faded 
from  the  image  of  that  perfection  in  which  he  was  created. 
Such  is  the  infinite  importance  to  the  nations  of  men  of 
the  political  organization  under  which  they  live.  The  most 
momentous  practical  question,  therefore,  of  course,  is,  in 
what  way  a  people  shall  determine  their  political  organiza- 
tion ;  or,  in  still  broader  terms,  what  is  a  right  foundation  of 
government.  Till  the  establishment  of  the  American  con- 
stitutions, this  question  had  received  but  one  answer  in  the 
world  ;  I  mean  but  one  which  obtained  for  any  length  of 
time,  and  among  any  numerous  people  ;  and  that  answer 
was,  Force.  The  right  of  the  strongest  was  the  only  footing 
on  which  the  governments  of  the  ancient  and  modern  nations 
were  in  fact  placed  ;  and  the  only  effort  of  the  theorists  was, 
to  disguise  the  simple  and  startling  doctrine  of  the  right  of 
the  strongest,  by  various  mystical  or  popular  fictions,  which 
in  no  degree  altered  its  real  nature.  Of  these,  the  only  two 
worthy  to  detain  us,  on  the  present  occasion,  are  those  of  the 
two  great  English  political  parties,  the  whigs  and  the  tories, 
as  they  are  called,  by  names  not  unlike,  in  dignity  and  sig- 
nificance, to  the  doctrines  which  they  designate.  The  tories 
taught,  that  the  only  foundation  of  government  was  "  divine 
right ;  "  and  this  is  substantially  the  same  notion  which  is 
still  inculcated  on  the  continent  of  Europe  ;  though  the 
delicate  ears  of  the  age  are  flattered  by  the  milder  term 
legitimacy.  The  whigs  maintained  that  the  foundation  of 
government  was  an  "  original  contract  ; "  but  of  this  con- 
tract, the  existing  organization  was  the  record  and  the  evi- 
dence, and  the  obligation  was  perpetually  binding.  It  may 
deserve  the  passing  remark,  therefore,  that,  in  reality,  the 
doctrine  of  the  whigs  in  England  is  a  little  less  liberal  than 
that  of  the  tories.  To  say  that  the  will  of  God  is  the  war- 
rant by  which  the  king  and  his  hereditary  counsellors  govern 
the  land,  is,  to  be  sure,  in  a  practical  sense,  what  the  illus 

*  Edwards's  History  of  the  West  Indies,  Vol.  II.  p.  68,  3d  ed. 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  113 

trious  sage  of  the  revolution,  surviving  in  our  neighborhood, 
dared,  as  early  as  1765,  to  pronounce  it,  —  "  dark  ribaldry." 
But,  in  a  merely  speculative  sense,  it  may,  without  offence,  be 
said  that  government,  like  every  thing  else,  subsists  by  the 
divine  will ;  and,  in  this  acceptation,  there  is  a  certain  eleva- 
tion and  grandeur  in  the  sentiment.  But  to  say  that  the 
form  of  government  is  matter  of  original  compact  with  the 
people  ;  that  my  ancestors,  ages  ago,  agreed  that  they  and 
their  posterity,  to  the  end  of  time,  should  give  up  to  a  certain 
line  of  princes  the  rule  of  the  state  ;  that  nothing  but  ex- 
treme necessity,  a  necessity  which  it  is  treasonable  even  to 
attempt  to  define  beforehand,  justifies  a  departure  from  this 
compact,  in  which  no  provision  is  made  that  the  will  of  the 
majority  should  prevail,  but  the  contrary ;  seems  to  me  to  be 
a  use  of  language  not  in  itself  more  rational,  while  it  affects 
a  liberality  which  it  does  not  possess. 

And  now,  fellow-citizens,  I  think  I  speak  the  words  of 
truth,  without  exaggeration,  when  I  say,  that  before  the 
establishment  of  our  American  constitutions,  this  tory  doc- 
trine of  the  divine  right  was  the  most  common,  and  this  whig 
doctrine  of  the  original  compact  was  professedly  the  most 
liberal,  doctrine  ever  maintained  by  any  political  party  in  any 
powerful  state.  I  do  not  mean  that  in  some  of  the  little 
Grecian  republics,  during  their  short-lived  noon  of  liberty  and 
glory,  no  broader  basis  was  laid ;  nor  that,  in  other  times  and 
places,  speculative  politicians  had  not  in  their  closets  dreamed 
of  a  better  foundation  of  government.  But  I  do  mean  that, 
whereas  the  whigs  in  England  are  the  party  of  politicians 
who  have  enjoyed,  by  general  consent,  the  credit  of  inculcat- 
ing a  more  liberal  system,  this  notion  of  the  compact  is  the 
extent  to  which  their  liberality  went. 

It  is  plain,  whichever  of  these  phrases — "divine  right,'' 
or  "  original  compact  "  —  we  may  prefer  to  use,  that  the 
right  of  the  strongest  lies  at  the  foundation  of  both,  in  the 
same  way,  and  to  the  same  degree.  The  doctrine  of  the 
divine  right  gives  to  the  ruler  authority  to  sustain  himself 
against  the  people,  not  merely  because  resistance  is  unlawful, 
but  because  it  is  sacrilegious.  The  doctrine  of  the  compact 
VOL.  i.  15 


114  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

denounces  every  attempted  change  in  the  reigning  line  as 
a  breach  of  faith,  and  as  such  also  not  only  treasonable,  but 
immoral.  When  a  conflict  ensues,  force  alone,  of  course, 
decides  which  party  shall  prevail ;  and  when  force  has  so 
decided,  all  the  sanctions  of  the  divine  will  and  of  the  social 
compact  revive  in  favor  of  the  successful  party.  Even  the 
statute  legislation  of  England  allows  the  successful  usurper 
to  claim  the  allegiance  of  the  subject  in  as  full  a  manner  as 
it  could  be  done  by  a  lawful  sovereign.* 

Nothing  is  wanting  to  fill  up  this  sketch  of  other  govern- 
ments, but  to  consider  what  is  the  form  in  which  force  is  ex- 
ercised to  sustain  them ;  and  this  is  that  of  a  standing  army, 
—  at  this  moment,  the  chief  support  of  every  government  on 
earth  except  our  own.  As  popular  violence  —  the  unrestrained 
and  irresistible  force  of  the  mass  of  men  long  oppressed  and 
late  awakened,  and  bursting  in  its  wrath  all  barriers  of  law 
and  humanity  —  is  unhappily  the  usual  instrument  by  which 
the  intolerable  abuses  of  a  corrupt  government  are  removed, 
so  the  same  blind  force  of  the  same  fearful  multitude,  sys- 
tematically kept  in  ignorance  both  of  their  duty  and  of  their 
privileges  as  citizens,  employed  in  a  form  somewhat  different 
indeed,  but  far  more  dreadful,  —  that  of  a  mercenary  standing 
army,  —  is  the  instrument  by  which  corrupt  governments  are 
sustained.  The  deplorable  scenes  which  marked  the  earlier 
stages  of  the  French  revolution  have  called  the  attention  of 
this  age  to  the  fearful  effects  of  popular  violence ;  and  the 
minds  of  men  have  recoiled  from  the  horrors  which  mark  the 
progress  of  an  infuriated  mob.  They  are  not  easily  to  be 
exaggerated.  But  the  power  of  the  mob  is  transient ;  the 
rising  sun  most  commonly  scatters  its  mistrustful  ranks  ;  the 
difficulty  of  subsistence  drives  its  members  asunder  ;  and  it 
is  only  while  it  exists  in  mass  that  it  is  terrible.  But  there  is 
a  form  in  which  the  mob  is  indeed  portentous ;  when  to  all 
its  native  terrors  it  adds  the  force  of  a  frightful  permanence  ; 
when,  by  a  regular  organization,  its  strength  is  so  curiously 
divided,  and  by  a  strict  discipline  its  parts  are  so  easily  com- 

*  Blackstone,  IV.,  p.  77    and  the  authorities  there  cited. 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  115 

bined,  that  each  and  every  portion  of  it  carries  in  its  presence 
the  strength  and  terror  of  the  whole ;  and  when,  instead  of 
that  want  of  concert  which  renders  the  common  mob  inca- 
pable of  arduous  enterprises,  it  is  despotically  swayed  by  a 
single  master  mind,  and  may  be  moved  in  array  across  the 
globe. 

I  remember  —  if,  on  such  a  subject,  I  may  be  pardoned  an 
illustration  approaching  the  ludicrous  —  to  have  seen  the  two 
kinds  of  force  brought  into  direct  comparison.  I  was  present 
at  the  second  great  meeting  of  the  populace  of  London  in 
1819,  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  I  know  not  how  many 
thousands,  but  assuredly  a  vast  multitude,  assembled  in 
Smithfield  market.  The  universal  distress  was  extreme ;  it 
was  a  short  time  affer  the  scenes  at  Manchester,  at  which  the 
public  mind  was  exasperated  ;  deaths  by  starvation  were 
said  not  to  be  rare ;  ruin  by  the  stagnation  of  business  was 
general ;  and  some  were  already  brooding  over  the  dark 
project  of  assassinating  the  ministers,  which  was,  not  long 
after,  matured  by  Thistlewood  and  his  associates,  some  of 
whom,  on  the  day  to  which  I  allude,  harangued  this  excited, 
desperate,  starving  assemblage.  When  I  considered  the  state 
of  feeling  prevailing  in  the  multitude  around  me ;  when  I 
looked  in  their  lowering  faces,  —  heard  their  deep,  indignant 
exclamations,  —  reflected  on  the  physical  force  concentrated, 
probably  that  of  thirty  or  forty  thousand  able-bodied  men,  — 
and  added  to  all  this,  that  they  were  .assembled  to  exercise 
what  is  in  theory  an  undoubted  privilege  of  British  citizens  ; 
I  supposed  that  any  small  number  of  troops,  who  should 
attempt  to  interrupt  them,  would  be  immolated  on  the  spot. 
While  I  was  musing  on  these  things,  and  turning  in  my  mind 
the  commonplaces  on  the  terrors  of  a  mob,  a  trumpet  was 
heard  to  sound  —  an  uncertain,  but  a  harsh  and  clamorous 
blast.  I  looked  that  the  surrounding  stalls  in  the  market 
should  have  furnished  the  unarmed  multitude  at  least  with 
that  weapon  with  which  Virginius  sacrificed  his  daughter 
to  the  liberty  of  Rome ;  I  looked  that  the  flying  pavement 
should  begin  to  darken  the  air.  Another  blast  is  heard  —  a 
cry  of  "  The  horse-guards !  "  ran  through  the  assembled 


116  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

thousands  ;  the  orators  on  the  platform  were  struck  mute  ;  and 
the  whole  ,of  that  mighty  host  of  starving,  desperate  men 
incontinently  took  to  their  heels  ;  in  which,  I  must  confess,  — 
feeling  no  call  on  that  occasion  to  be  faithful  found  among 
the  faithless,  — I  did  myself  join  them.  We  had  run  through 
the  Old  Bailey  and  reached  Lndgate  Hill,  before  we  found 
out  that  we  had  been  put  to  flight  by  a  single  mischievous 
tool  of  power,  who  had  come  triumphing  down  the  opposite 
street  on  horseback,  blowing  a  stage-coachman's  horn. 

We  have  heard  of  those  midnight  scenes  of  desolation, 
when  the  populace  of  some  overgrown  capital,  exhausted 
by  the  extremity  of  political  oppression,  or  famishing  at  the 
gates  of  luxurious  palaces,  or  kindled  by  some  transport  of 
fanatical  zeal,  rushes  out  to  find  the  victims  of  its  fury ;  the 
lurid  glare  of  torches,  casting  their  gleams  on  faces  dark  with 
rage  ;  the  ominous  din  of  the  alarm  bell,  striking  with  affright 
on  the  broken  visions  of  the  sleepers  ;  the  multitudinous  roar 
of  the  living  storm,  as  it  sweeps  onward  to  its  objects,  — but 
O,  the  disciplined,  the  paid,  the  honored  mob ;  not  moving 
in  rags  and  starvation  to  some  act  of  blood  or  plunder ;  but 
inarching,  in  all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war,  to  lay 
waste  a  feebler  state ;  or  cantoned  at  home  among  an  over- 
awed and  broken-spirited  people  !  We  have  read  of  granaries 
plundered,  of  castles  sacked,  and  their  inmates  cruelly  mur- 
dered, by  the  ruthless  hands  of  the  mob.  We  have  read  of 
friendly  states  ravaged,  governments  overturned,  tyrannies 
founded  and  upheld,  proscriptions  executed,  fruitful  regions 
turned  into  trampled  deserts,  and  the  tide  of  civilization 
thrown  back,  by  a  well-organized  system  of  military  force.* 

Such  was  the  foundation  in  theory  and  in  practice  of  all 
the  governments  which  can  be  considered  as  having  had  a 
permanent  existence  in  the  world  before  the  revolution  in 
this  country.  There  are  certainly  great  differences  between 

*  "It  was  the  apprehension  of  Montesquieu,  that  the  spirit  of  increasing 
armies  would  terminate  in  converting  Europe  into  an  immense  camp,  in 
changing  our  artisans  and  cultivators  into  military  savages,  and  reviving 
the  age  of  Attila  and  Genghis."  —  Sir  J.  Mackintosh,  ViniUdaK,  Galliccz, 
III.  28. 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  117 

the  Oriental  despotisms,  ancient  and  modern  —  the  military 
empire  of  Rome  —  the  feudal  sovereignties  of  the  middle 
ages  —  and  the  legitimate  monarchies  of  the  present  day. 
Some  were  and  are  more,  and  some  less  susceptible  of  melio- 
ration in  practice ;  and  of  all  of  them  it  might  perhaps  be 
said,  —  being  all  defective  in  principle,  — 

"  That  which  is  best  administered  is  best." 

In  no  one  of  these  governments,  nor  in  any  government,  was 
the  truth  admitted,  that  the  only  just  foundation  of  all 
government  is  the  will  of  the  people.  If  it  ever  occurred 
to  the  practical  or  theoretical  politician  that  such  an  idea 
deserved  examination,  the  experiment  was  thought  to  have 
been  made  in  the  republics  of  Greece,  and  to  have  failed ;  as 
fail  it  certainly  did,  from  the  physical  impossibility  of  con- 
ducting the  business  of  the  state  by  the  actual  intervention 
of  every  citizen.  Such  a  plan  of  government  must  of  course 
fail ;  if  for  no  other  reason,  at  least  for  this  —  that  it  would 
prevent  the  citizen  from  pursuing  his  own  business,  which  it 
is  the  object  of  all  government  to  enable  him  to  do.  It  was 
considered  then  as  settled,  that  the  citizens,  each  and  all, 
could  not  be  the  government ;  some  one  or  more  must  dis- 
charge its  duties  for  them.  Who  shall  do  this  ?  how  shall 
they  be  designated  ? 

The  first  king  was  a  fortunate  soldier,  and  the  first  noble- 
man was  one  of  his  generals  ;  and  government  has  passed  by 
descent  to  their  posterity,  with  no  other  interruption  than  has 
taken  place  when  some  new  soldier  of  fortune  has  broken  in 
upon  this  line  of  succession,  in  favor  of  himself  and  of  his 
generals.  The  people  have  passed  for  nothing  in  the  plan  ; 
and  whenever  it  has  occurred  to  a  busy  genius  to  put  the 
question,  By  what  right  is  government  thus  exercised  and 
transmitted  ?  the  common  answer,  as  we  have  seen,  has 
been,  By  divine  right;  while,  as  the  great  improvement  on 
this  doctrine,  men  have  been  consoled  with  the  assurance, 
that  such  was  the  original  contract. 

But  a  brighter  day  was  in  reserve.  The  founders  of  the 
feudal  system,  barbarous,  arbitrary,  and  despotic  as  they  were 


118  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

and  profoundly  ignorant  of  political  science,  were  animated 
by  a  spirit  of  personal  liberty,  out  of  which,  after  ages  of 
conflict,  grew  up  a  species  of  popular  representation.  In  the 
eye  of  the  feudal  system,  the  king  was  the  first  baron ;  and 
standing  within  his  own  sphere,  each  other  baron  was  as  good 
as  the  first.  From  this  important  relation,  in  which  the  feu- 
dal lords  of  England  claimed  to  stand  to  their  prince,  arose 
the  practice  of  their  being  consulted  by  him  in  great  and  dif- 
ficult conjunctures  of  affairs  ;  and  hence  the  cooperation  of  a 
grand  council  (subsequently  convened  in  two  houses,  under 
the  name  of  Parliament]  in  making  the  laws  and  administer- 
ing the  government.  The  formation  of  this  body  has  proved 
a  great  step  in  the  progress  of  popular  rights ;  its  influence 
has  been  decisive  in  breaking  the  charm  of  absolute  monarchy, 
and  giving  to  a  body  partially  eligible  by  the  people  a  large 
share  in  the  government.  It  has  also  operated  most  auspi- 
ciously on  liberty,  by  exhibiting  to  the  world,  on  the  theatre 
of  a  conspicuous  nation,  a  living  example,  that  in  proportion 
as  the  rights  and  interests  of  a  people  are  represented  in  a  gov- 
ernment, in  that  degree  the  state  becomes  strong  and  prosper 
ous.  Thus  far  the  science  and  the  practice  of  government 
had  gone  in  England,  and  here  it  had  come  to  a  stand.  An 
equal  representation,  even  in  the  House  of  Commons,  was 
unthought  of;  or  thought  of  only  as  one  of  the  exploded 
abominations  of  Cromwell.  It  is  asserted  by  Mr  Hume, 
writing  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  and  weighing 
this  subject  with  equal  moderation  and  temper,  that  "  the  tide 
has  run  long,  and  with  some  rapidity,  to  the  side  of  popular 
government,  and  is  just  beginning  to  turn  towards  monarchy." 
And  he  maintains  that  the  British  constitution  is,  though 
slowly,  yet  gradually  verging  towards  an  absolute  government. 
Such  was  the  state  of  political  science,  when  the  independ- 
ence of  the  United  States  of  America  was  declared,  and  the 
constitution  organized  on  the  basis  of  that  declaration.  The 
precedents  in  favor  of  a  popular  system  were  such  as  we  have 
seen.  What  lights  these  precedents  gave  them,  our  fathers 
had ;  beyond  this,  they  owed  every  thing  to  their  own  wis- 
dom and  courage,  in  daring  to  carry  out  and  apply  to  the 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  119 

executive  branch  of 'the  government  that  system  of  delegat- 
ed power  of  which  the  elements  had  always  existed  in  the 
colonial  assemblies.  Within  the  limits  of  the  several  states, 
this  principle  was  applied  for  the  most  part  without  qualifica- 
tion ;  or  where  qualifications  were  attempted,  they  have,  in 
most  cases,  been  removed  by  subsequent  amendments.  In 
framing  a  government  for  the  Union,  consisting  of  sovereign 
states,  independent  of  each  other,  a  happy  compromise  was 
resorted  to.  An  equal  representation  in  the  Senate  was  given 
to  each  state.  The  other  house  of  Congress  was  established 
on  the  principle  of  proportionate  numbers.  On  the  same 
principle  it  was  provided  that  the  Executive  should  -be  chosen 
according  to  a  plan  in  which  regard  is  had  both  to  the  equality 
of  the  states  and  to  numerical  majority ;  and  the  powers  and 
functions  of  each  branch  of  the  government  are  defined  by  a 
written  constitution.  Thus  was  organized  a  family  of  states, 
associated  in  a  confederate  Union,  which,  if  any  thing  human 
is  entitled  to  that  name,  may  be  called  a  perfect  form  of  gov- 
ernment. 

And  what,  fellow-citizens,  are  to  be  the  fruits  to  us  and  to 
the  world  of  the  establishment  of  such  a  system  ?  I  might 
partly  answer  the  inquiry,  by  reminding  you  what  have  been 
the  fruits  to  us  and  to  the  world ;  by  inviting  you  to  compare 
our  beloved  country,  as  it  is,  in  extent  of  settlement,  in 
numbers  and  resources,  in  the  useful  and  ornamental  arts,  in 
the  abundance  of  the  common  blessings  of  life,  in  the  general 
standard  of  character,  in  the  means  of  education,  in  the  insti- 
tutions for  social  and  philanthropic  objects,  in  the  various 
great  industrial  interests,  in  public  strength  and  national 
respectability,  with  what  it  was  hi  all  these  respects  fifty 
years  ago.  But  the  limits  of  this  occasion  will  not  allow  us 
to  engage  in  such  an  enumeration  ;  and  it  will  be  amply 
sufficient  for  us  to  contemplate  in  its  principle  the  beneficial 
operation  on  society  of  the  form  of  government  bequeathed 
to  us  by  our  fathers.  This  principle  is  Equality  ;  the  equal 
enjoyment  by  every  citizen  of  the  rights  and  privileges  of  the 
social  union. 

The  principle  of  all  other  governments  is  monopoly,  exclu- 


120  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

sion,  favor.  They  secure  great  privileges  to  a  small  number, 
and  necessarily  at  the  expense  of  all  the  rest  of  the  com- 
munity. 

In  the  keen  conflict  of  minds  which  preceded  and  accom- 
panied the  political  convulsions  of  the  last  generation,  the 
first  principles  of  society  were  canvassed  with  a  boldness  and 
power  before  unknown  in  Europe  ;  and  from  the  great  prin- 
ciple, that  all  men  are  equal,  it  was  for  the  first  time  triumph- 
antly inferred,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  that  the  will  of  a 
majority  of  the  people  is  the  rule  of  government.  To  meet 
these  doctrines,  so  alarming  in  their  tendency  to  the  existing 
governments  of  Europe,  new  ground  was  also  taken  by  the 
champions  of  those  governments,  and  particularly  by  a  man 
whose  genius,  eloquence,  and  integrity  gave  a  currency, 
which  nothing  else  could  have  given,  to  his  splendid  para- 
doxes. In  one  of  his  stupendous  efibrts  to  resist  the  torrent 
of  the  French  revolution,*  this  great  man,  —  for  great,  almost 
beyond  rivalry,  most  assuredly  he  was,  —  in  order  to  meet 
the  inference  drawn  from  the  equality  of  man,  that  the  will 
of  the  majority  must  be  the  rule  of  government,  has  under- 
taken, as  he  says.  "  to  fix,  with  some  degree  of  distinctness, 
an  idea  of  what  it  is  we  mean  when  we  say,  the  PEOPLE  ;  " 
and  in  fulfilment  of  this  design,  he  lays  it  down,  "  that,  in  a 
state  of  rude  nature,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  people.  A 
number  of  men,  in  themselves,  can  have  no  collective  ca- 
pacity. The  idea  of  a  people  is  the  idea  of  a  corporation  ; 
it  is  wholly  artificial,  and  made,  like  all  other  legal  fictions. 
by  common  agreement." 

Mr  Burke  has  himself,  in  near  connection  with  this  passage, 
justly  affirmed,  that  "a  state  of  civil  society,  much  more  truly 
than  a  savage  and  incoherent  mode  of  life,  is  a  state  of  na- 
ture ;  "  but  I  know  not  in  what  corner  of  the  earth  men  are 
found  assembled  in  large  numbers,  however  barbarous,  who 
do  not  form  a  people  more  or  less  improved  It  is  but  a 
truism  to  say  that  nowhere,  and  under  no  circumstances, 
have  the  individuals  of  our  race  been  placed  by  nature,  each 

*  The  Appeal  from  the  New  to  the  Old  Whigs. 


THE    AMERICAN     CONSTITUTIONS.  121 

standing  alone,  and  not  united  by  those  natural  ties  of 
consanguinity  which  form  the  first  bonds  of  a  collective 
capacity.  The  idea  of  a  people  is  so  far  from  being  that  of 
a  corporation,  wholly  artificial,  and,  like  all  other  legal  fic- 
tions, made  by  common  agreement,  that  it  is,  by  the  appoint- 
ment of  Providence,  the  direct  and  necessary  consequence 
and  development  of  the  social  nature  in  which  we  are 
created.  It  begins  in  family,  expands  into  race,  and  descends 
to  remote  ages,  through  a  long  line  of  kindred  generations. 

Nor  does  it  rest  on  physical  relations  alone.  The  myste- 
rious power  of  speech,  which  enables  man  to  impart  his 
thoughts  and  feelings  to  man,  contributes  largely  to  its  for- 
mation. All  the  social  sympathies  and  sentiments  of  our 
nature  give  it  strength.  Are  all  the  relations  of  ancestry,  pos- 
terity, and  fellow-citizenship ;  all  the  veneration  and  love 
bound  up  in  the  name  of  Country  ;  the  delight,  the  enthusiasm, 
with  which  we  seek  out,  after  the  lapse  of  generations  and 
ages,  the  traces  of  our  fathers'  bravery  or  wisdom  ;  are  these 
all  "  a  legal  fiction  "  ?  Is  it  a  legal  fiction  that  moistens  the 
eye  of  the  solitary  traveller,  when  he  meets  a  countryman  in 
a  foreign  land  ?  Is  it  a  "  common  agreement  "  that  gives  its 
meaning  to  my  mother  tongue,  and  enables  me  to  speak  to 
the  hearts  of  my  kindred  men  beyond  the  rivers  and  beyond 
the  mountains  ?  Yes,  it  is  a  common  agreement ;  but  it  is 
the  same  which  marshals  the  winged  nations,  that, 

"  In  common,  ranged  in  figure,  wedge  their  way, 
Intelligent  of  seasons ;  and  set  forth 
Their  aery  caravan,  high  over  seas 
Flying,  and  over  lands,  with  mutual  wing 
Easing  their  flight" 

The  mutual  dependence  upon  each  other  in  their  severe,, 
interests  and  pursuits,  of  the  individuals,  families,  and  com- 
munities, of  which  a  nation  is  composed,  is  a  chapter  in 
the  great  law,  not  of  corporations,  but  of  nature.  The  law 
by  which  commerce,  manufactures,  and  agriculture  support 
each  other  is  the  same  law  in  virtue  of  which  the  earth  owes 
its  fertility  to  the  rivers  and  the  rains ;  and  the  clouds  derive 
VOL.  i.  16 


122  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

their  high-travelling  waters  from  the  rising  vapors ;  and  the 
ocean  is  fed  from  the  secret  springs  of  the  mountains ;  and 
the  plant  that  grows  derives  its  increase  from  the  plant  that 
decays ;  and  all  subsist  and  thrive,  not  by  themselves,  but  by 
others,  in  the  great  political  economy  of  nature.  The  neces- 
sary cohesion  of  the  parts  of  the  political  system  is  no  more 
artificial  than  the  gravity  of  the  natural  system,  in  which 
planet  is  bound  to  planet,  and  all  to  the  sun,  and  the  sun  to 
all.  And  yet  the  great  political,  intellectual,  moral  system, 
which  we  call  a  People,  is  a  legal  fiction !  "  O  that  mine 
enemy  had  said  it !  "  the  admirers  of  Mr  Burke  may  well 
exclaim.  O  that  some  scoffing  Voltaire,  some  impious  Rous- 
seau had  uttered  it !  Had  uttered  it  ?  Rousseau  did  utter  the 
same  thing ;  and  more  rebuked  than  any  other  error  of 
this  misguided  genius,  is  his  doctrine  of  the  Social  Contract, 
which  Burke  has  substantially  reasserted  in  the  sentences  I 
have  quoted. 

But  no,  fellow-citizens ;  political  society  exists  by  the  law 
of  nature.  Man  is  formed  for  it ;  every  man  is  formed  for 
it ;  every  man  has  an  equal  right  to  its  privileges ;  and  to  be 
deprived  of  them,  under  whatever  pretence,  is  so  far  to  be 
reduced  to  slavery.  The  authors  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence saw  this,  and  taught  that  all  men  are  born  free  and 
equal.  On  this  principle  our  constitutions  rest ;  and  no  con- 
stitution can  bind  a  people  on  any  other  principle.  By  the 
introduction  of  this  principle  of  equality,  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  has  at  once  effected  a  before  unimagined  exten- 
sion of  social  privileges.  Grant  that  no  new  benefit  (which, 
however,  can  by  no  means  with  truth  be  granted)  be  intro- 
duced into  the  world  on  this  plan  of  equality,  still  it  will  have 
discharged  the  inestimable  office  of  communicating,  in  equal 
proportion,  to  all  the  citizens,  those  privileges  of  the  social 
union  which  were  before  partitioned  in  an  invidious  giada- 
tion,  profusely  among  the  privileged  orders,  and  parsimoniously 
or  not  at  all  among  the  rest.  Let  me  instance  in  the  right  of 
suffrage.  The  enjoyment  of  this  right  enters  largely  into 
the  happiness  of  the  social  condition.  I  do  not  mean  that  it 
is  necessary  to  our  happiness  actually  to  exercise  this  right  at 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  123 

every  election ;  but  the  right  itself  to  give  our  voice  in  the 
choice  of  public  servants  and  the  management  of  public 
affairs  is  so  precious,  that  there  is  not  a  citizen  who  hears  me 
that  would  not  lay  down  his  life  to  assert  it.  This  is  a  right 
unknown  in  every  country  but  ours  ;  I  say  unknown,  because 
in  England,  whose  institutions  make  the  nearest  approach  to 
a  popular  character,  the  elective  suffrage  is  not  only  incredi- 
bly unequal  and  capricious  in  its  distribution,  but  extends, 
after  all,  only  to  the  choice  of  a  minority  of  one  house  of  the 
legislature.*  Thus,  then,  the  people  of  this  country  are,  by 
their  constitutions  of  government,  endowed  with  a  new 
source  of  enjoyment,  elsewhere  almost  unknown ;  a  great 
and  substantial  happiness.  Most  of  the  desirable  things  of 
life  bear  a  high  price  in  the  world's  market.  Every  thing 
usually  deemed  a  great  good,  must,  for  its  attainment,  be 
weighed  down,  in  the  opposite  scale,  with  what  is  as  usually 
deemed  a  great  evil  —  labor,  care,  danger.  It  is  only  the 
unbought,  spontaneous,  essential  circumstances  of  our  nature 
and  condition,  that  yield  a  liberal  enjoyment.  Our  religious 
hopes,  intellectual  meditations,  social  sentiments,  family  affec- 
tions, political  privileges  —  these  are  springs  of  unpurchased 
happiness ;  and  to  condemn  men  to  live  under  an  arbitrary 
government  is  to  cut  them  off  from  nearly  all  the  satisfaction 
which  nature  designed  should  flow  from  those  principles 
within  us,  by  which  a  tribe  of  kindred  men  is  constituted  a 
people. 

But  it  is  not  merely  an  extension  to  all  the  members  of 
society  of  those  blessings  which,  under  other  systems,  are 
monopolized  by  a  few ;  great  and  positive  improvements,  I 
feel  sure,  are  destined  to  flow  from  the  introduction  of  the 
republican  system.  The  first  of  these  will  be  to  make  wars 
less  frequent,  and  finally  to  cause  them  to  cease  altogether. 
It  was  not  a  republican,  but  the  subject  of  a  monarchy,  and 
no  patron  of  novelties,  who  said,  — 

"War  is  a  game,  which,  were  their  subjects  wise, 
Kings  would  not  play  at" 

*  These  remarks,  it  will  be  observed  from  the  date  of  the  address,  were 
made  several  years  before  the  reform  of  the  House  of  Commons. 


124  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

A  great  majority  of  the  wars  which  have  desolated  man- 
kind have  been  caused  by  the  disputed  titles  and  rival  claims 
of  sovereigns,  or  by  their  personal  characters,  particularly 
their  ambition,  or  the  character  of  their  favorites,  or  by  some 
other  circumstance  evidently  incident  to  a  form  of  govern- 
ment which  withholds  from  the  people  the  ultimate  control 
of  affairs.  The  more  civilized  men  grow,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  the  more  universally  is  this  the  case.  In  the  barbarous 
ages,  the  people  pursued  war  as  an  occupation ;  its  plunder 
was  more  profitable  than  their  labor  at  home,  in  the  state  of 
general  insecurity.  In  modern  times,  princes  raise  their  sol- 
diers by  conscription,  their  sailors  by  impressment,  and  drive 
them,  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  and  dirk,  into  the  battles 
which  they  fight  for  reasons  of  state.  But  in  a  republic, 
where  the  people,  by  their  representatives,  must  vote  the  dec- 
laration of  war,  and  afterwards  raise  the  means  of  its  support, 
none  but  wars  of  just  and  necessary  defence  can  be  easily 
waged.  Republics,  we  are  told,  indeed,  are  ambitious  —  a 
seemingly  wise  remark,  devoid  of  meaning.  Man  —  man  is 
ambitious ;  and  the  question  is,  Where  will  his  ambition  be 
most  likely  to  drive  his  country  into  war ;  in  a  monarchy, 
where  the  ruler  has  but  to  "  cry  havoc,  and  let  slip  the  dogs 
of  war,"  or  in  a  republic,  where  he  must  get  a  vote  of  a  strong 
majority  of  the  nation?  Let  history  furnish  the  answer. 
The  book  which  promised  you,  in  its  title,  a  history  of  the 
progress  of  the  human  family,  or  of  some  great  branch  of  it 
turns  out  to  be  a  record,  not  of  the  human  family,  but  of  the 
Macedonian  family,  the  Julian  family,  the  families  of  York 
and  Lancaster,  of  Lorraine  and  Bourbon.  We  nesd  not  go  to 
the  ancient  annals  to  confirm  this  remark.  We  need  not  speak 
of  those  who  reduced  Asia  and  Africa,  in  the  morning  of  the 
world,  to  a  vassalage  from  which  they  have  never  recovered. 
We  need  not  dwell  on  the  more  notorious  exploits  of  the 
Alexanders  and  the  Csesars,  the  men  who  wept  for  other  worlds 
to  visit  with  the  pestilence  of  their  arms.  We  need  net  run 
down  the  bloody  line  of  the  dark  ages,  when  the  barbarous 
North  disgorged  her  ambitious  savages  on  Europe,  or  when, 
at  a  later  period,  barbarous  Europe  poured  back  her  holy  ruf- 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  125 

fians  on  Asia ;  we  need  but  look  at  the  dates  of  modern  his- 
tory—  the  history  of  civilized,  balanced  Europe.  We  here 
behold  the  ambition  of  Charles  V.  involving  the  continent  of 
Europe  in  war  for  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
the  fiend-like  malignity  of  Catharine  de'  Medici  and  her  kin- 
dred, distracting  it  the  other  half.  We  see  the  haughty  and 
cheerless  bigotry  of  Philip,  persevering  in  a  conflict  of  exter- 
mination for  one  whole  age  in  the  Netherlands,  and  darkening 
the  English  Channel  with  his  armada ;  while  France  prolongs 
her  civil  dissensions,  because  Henry  IV.  was  the  twenty-sec- 
ond cousin  of  Henry  III.  We  enter  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  again  find  the  pride  and  bigotry  of  the  house  of  Austria 
wasting  Germany  and  the  neighboring  powers  with  the  Thirty 
Years'  war  ;  and  before  the  peace  of  Westphalia  is  concluded, 
England  is  plunged  by  the  Stuarts  into  the  fiery  trial  of  her 
militant  liberties.  At  the  same  time,  the  civil  wars  are  revived 
in  France,  and  the  kingdom  is  blighted  by  the  craft  and  ava- 
rice of  Mazarin.  The  civil  wars  are  healed,  and  the  atrocious 
career  of  Louis  XIV.  begins ;  a  half  century  of  bloodshed 
and  woe,  that  stands  in  revolting  contrast  with  the  paltry  pre- 
tences of  his  wars.*  At  length  the  peace  of  Ryswic  is  made 
in  1697,  and  bleeding  Europe  throws  off  the  harness,  and  lies 
down  like  an  exhausted  giant  to  repose.  In  three  years,  the 
testament  of  a  doting  Spanish  king  gives  the  signal  for  the 
Succession  war  ;  till  a  cup  of  tea  spilt  on  Mrs  Masham's  apron 
restores  peace  to  the  afflicted  kingdoms.  Meantime  the  mad- 
man of  the  north  had  broken  loose  upon  the  world,  and  was 
running  his  frantic  round.  Peace  at  length  is  restored,  and 
with  one  or  two  short  wars,  it  remains  unbroken  till,  in  1740, 
the  will  of  Charles  VI.  occasions  another  testamentary  con- 
test ;  and  in  the  gallant  words  of  the  stern  but  relenting 
moralist, 

"The  queen,  the  beauty,  sets  the  world  in  arms." 

*  "  The  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  a  reign  which  has  been  so  often  celebrated 
as  the  zenith  of  warlike  and  military  splendor,  has  always  appeared  to  me 
to  be  the  consummation  of  whatever  is  afflicting  and  degrading  in  the 
annals  of  the  human  race."  -  -  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  Vlndidet  Gallica, 
Works,  III.  11. 


126  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

Eight  years  are  this  time  sufficient  to  exhaust  the  com- 
batants, and  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  is  concluded  ;  but, 
in  1755,  the  old  French  war  is  kindled  in  our  own  wilder- 
ness, and  through  the  united  operation  of  the  feuds  in 
England,  which  sprang  from  the  disputed  succession  to  the 
crown,  the  corruption  of  the  French  court  and  the  ambition 
of  Frederic,  spreads  throughout  Europe.  The  wars  of  the 
last  generation  I  need  not  name,  nor  dwell  on  that  signal 
retribution  by  which  the  corruption  of  the  old  governments, 
both  in  France  and  the  rest  of  continental  Europe,  conjured 
up  at  length  the  terrific  genius  of  the  French  revolution, 
and  in  its  progress  awoke  the  military  ambition  of  the 
astonishing  individual,  who  seems,  in  our  day,  to  have 
risen  from  the  ranks  of  the  people,  to  chastise  the  privi- 
leged orders  with  that  iron  scourge  with  which  they  had 
so  long  afflicted  mankind.  It  may  well  be  doubted, 
whether,  under  a  government  like  ours,  one  of  all  these 
contests  would  have  taken  place.  Those  that  had  their 
origin  in  disputed  titles  and  bequests  of  thrones  could  not, 
of  course,  have  existed  ;  and,  making  every  allowance  for 
the  effect  of  popular  delusion,  it  seems  to  me  not  possible 
that  a  representative  government  would  have  embarked  in 
any  of  the  wars  of  ambition  and  aggrandizement  which  fill 
up  the  catalogue.* 

Who,  then,  are  these  families  and  individuals  —  these  royal 
lanistcB  —  by  whom  the  nations  are  kept  in  training  for  a 
long  gladiatorial  combat  ?  Are  they  better,  wiser  than  the 
rest  of  mankind  ?  Look  at  them  in  life  ;  what  are  they  ? 
"  Kings  are  fond,"  says  Mr  Burke,  no  scoffer  at  thrones  — 
"  kings  are  fond  of  low  company,  "f  What  are  they  when 
gone  ?  Expende  Hannibalem.  Enter  the  great  cathedrals 
of  Europe,  and  contemplate  the  sepulchres  of  the  men  whose 
interests  and  passions  decided  the  fate  of  each  successive 
generation.  Question  your  feelings,  as  you  behold  where 


*  I   am   sorry  to  say  that   the   events  of  the  last  few  years   in   this 
country  have  done  much  to  discredit  this  opinion, 
t  Speech  on  Economical  Reform. 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  127 

the  Plantagenets  and  Tudors,  the  Stuarts  and  those  of 
Brunswick,  lie  mournfully  huddled  up  in  the  chapels  of 
Westminster  Abbey  ;  and  compare  those  feelings  with  the 
homage  you  pay  to  Heaven's  aristocracy  —  the  untitled 
learning,  genius,  and  wit  that  moulder  by  their  side.  Count 
over  the  sixty-six  emperors  and  princes  of  the  Austrian  house, 
that  lie  gathered  in  the  dreary  pomp  of  monumental  marble, 
in  the  vaults  of  the  Capuchins  at  Vienna ;  and  weigh  the 
worth  of  their  dust  against  the  calamities  of  their  Peasants' 
war,  their  Thirty  Years'  war,  their  Succession  war,  their 
wars  to  enforce  the  Pragmatic  Sanction,  and  of  all  their  other 
uncouth  pretences  for  destroying  mankind. 

But  the  cessation  of  wars,  to  which  we  look  forward  as 
the  result  of  the  gradual  diffusion  of  republican  government, 
is  but  the  commencement  of  the  social  improvements  which 
cannot  but  flow  from  the  same  source.  It  has  been  justly 
said,  that  he  was  a  great  benefactor  of  mankind  who  could 
make  two  blades  of  grass  grow  where  one  grew  before.  But 
our  fathers  were  the  great  benefactors  of  mankind,  who  have 
brought  into  action  such  a  vast  increase  of  physical,  political, 
and  moral  energy  ;  who  have  made  not  two  citizens  to  live 
only,  but  vast  multitudes  to  live  and  to  prosper  in  regions 
which,  but  for  them,  would  have  remained  for  ages  unsettled, 
and  to  enjoy  those  political  rights  of  men,  which,  but  for  the 
principles  of  government  established  by  them,  would  have 
continued  to  be  arrogated,  as  the  exclusive  inheritance  of  a 
few.  I  may  appeal  to  any  sober  judge  of  political  proba- 
bility, whether  more  has  not  been  done  to  extend  the  domain 
of  civilization,  in  fifty  years,  since  the  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence, than  would  have  been  done  in  five  centuries  of 
continued  colonial  subjection.  It  is  not  even  a  matter  of 
probability  ;  the  king  in  council  had  adopted  it,  as  a  maxim 
of  American  policy,  that  no  settlements  in  this  country 
should  be  made  beyond  the  Alleghanies  ;  —  in  other  words, 
that  the  design  of  Providence,  in  spreading  out  the  fertile 
valley  of  the  Mississippi,  should  not  be  fulfilled. 

The  influence  of  our  forms  and  principles  of  government 
on  foreign  nations  is,  next  to  their  effect  on  our  own  condi 


128  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

tion,  the  most  interesting  question  we  can  consider.  With 
an  example  of  successful  popular  government  before  their 
eyes,  the  nations  of  the  earth  will  not  eventually  be  satisfied 
with  any  other.  With  the  French  revolution  as  a  beacon  to 
guide  them,  they  will  learn,  we  may  hope,  not  to  embark  too 
rashly  on  the  stormy  waves  of  reform.  The  cause,  however, 
of  popular  government  is  rapidly  gaining  in  the  world.  In 
England,  education  is  carrying  it  wide  and  deep  into  society. 
On  the  continent,  written  constitutions  of  governments 
nominally  representative  —  though  as  yet,  it  must  be  owned, 
nominally  so  alone  —  are  adopted  in  eight  or  ten  late  abso- 
lute monarchies ;  and  it  is  not  without  good  grounds  that  we 
may  trust  that  the  indifference  with  which  the  great  European 
powers  contemplate  the  sacrifice  of  Greece,  and  their  crusade 
against  the  constitutions  of  Spain,  Piedmont,  and  Naples,  will 
satisfy  the  mass  of  thinking  men  in  Europe  that  it  is  time  to 
put  an  end  to  these  cruel  delusions,  and  take  their  own 
jovernment  into  their  own  hands. 

But  the  great  triumphs  of  constitutional  freedom,  to  which 
our  independence  has  furnished  the  example,  have  been  wit- 
nessed in  the  southern  portion  of  our  hemisphere.  Sunk  to 
the  last  point  of  colonial  degradation,  they  have  risen  at  once 
into  the  organization  of  free  republics.  Their  struggle  has 
been  arduous  ;  and  eighteen  years  of  checkered  fortune  have 
not  yet  brought  it  to  a  close.  But  we  must  not  infer,  from 
their  prolonged  agitations,  that  their  independence  is  uncer- 
tain ;  that  they  have  prematurely  put  on  the  toga  virilis  of 
freedom.  They  have  not  begun  too  soon  ;  they  have  more 
to  do.  Our  war  of  independence  was  shorter  ;  —  happily,  we 
were  contending  with  a  government  that  could  not,  like  that 
of  Spain,  pursue  an  interminable  and  hopeless  contest,  in 
defiance  of  the  people's  will.  Our  transition  to  a  mature  and 
well-adjusted  constitution  was  more  prompt  than  that  of  our 
sister  republics ;  for  the  foundations  had  been  deeply  settled, 
and  the  preparation  long  made.  When  we  consider  that  it  is 
our  example  which  has  aroused  the  spirit  of  independence 
from  California  to  Cape  Horn  ;  that  the  experiment  of  liberty, 
if  it  had  failed  with  us,  most  surely  would  not  have  been 


THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS.  129 

attempted  by  them ;  that  even  now  our  counsels  and  acts 
will  operate  as  powerful  precedents  in  this  great  family  of 
republics  ;  we  learn  the  importance  of  the  post  which  Provi- 
dence has  assigned  us  in  the  world.  A  wise  and  harmonious 
administration  of  the  public  affairs  —  a  faithful,  liberal,  and 
patriotic  exercise  of  the  private  duties  of  the  citizen  —  while 
they  secure  our  happiness  at  home,  will  diffuse  a  healthful 
influence  through  the  channels  of  national  communication, 
and  serve  the  cause  of  liberty  beyond  the  equator  and  the 
Andes.  When  we  show  a  united,  conciliatory,  and  imposing 
front  to  their  rising  states,  we  show  them,  better  than  sound- 
ing eulogies  can  do,  the  true  aspect  of  an  independent  repub- 
lic. We  give  them  a  living  example  that  the  fireside  policy 
of  a  people  is  like  that  of  the  individual  man.  As  the  one. 
commencing  in  the  prudence,  order,  and  industry  of  the  pri- 
vate circle,  extends  itself  to  all  the  duties  of  social  life,  of 
the  family,  the  neighborhood,  the  country,  so  the  true 
domestic  policy  of  the  republic,  beginning  in  the  wise  organ- 
zation  of  its  own  government,  pervades  its  territories  with  a 
vigilant,  prudent,  temperate  administration,  and  extends  the 
hand  of  cordial  interest  to  all  the  friendly  nations,  especially 
to  those  which  are  of  the  household  of  liberty. 

It  is  in  this  way  that  we  are  to  fulfil  our  destiny  in  the 
world.  The  greatest  engine  of  moral  power  known  to  human 
affairs,  is  an  organized,  prosperous  state.  All  that  man,  in  his 
individual  capacity,  can  do  —  all  that  he  can  effect  by  his  pri- 
vate fraternities,  by  his  ingenious  discoveries  and  wonders  of 
art,  or  by  his  influence  over  others  —  is  as  nothing,  compared 
with  the  collective,  perpetuated  influence  on  human  affairs 
and  human  happiness,  of  a  well-constituted,  powerful  com- 
monwealth. It  blesses  generations  with  its  sweet  influence  ; 
even  the  barren  earth  seems  to  pour  out  its  fruits  under  a 
system  where  rights  and  property  are  secure,  while  her  fairest 
gardens  are  blighted  by  despotism.  Nature  enters  into  a 
beautiful  accord,  a  better,  purer  asiento,  with  man,  and  guides 
an  industrious  citizen  to  every  rood  of  her  smiling  wastes. 
We  see,  at  length,  that  what  has  been  called  a  state  of 
nature,  has  been  most  falsely,  calumniously  so  denominated ; 
VOL.  i.  17 


130  THE    AMERICAN    CONSTITUTIONS. 

that  man  is  in  his  nature  neither  a  savage,  a  hermit,  nor  a 
slave,  but  a  member  of  a  well-ordered  family,  a  good  neigh- 
bor, a  free  citizen,  a  well-informed,  good  man,  acting  with 
others  like  him.  This  is  the  lesson  which  is  taught  in  the 
charter  of  our  independence ;  this  is  the  lesson  which  our 
example  ought  to  teach  the  world. 


EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.* 


FRIENDS  AND  FELLOW-CITIZENS  : 

WE  are  assembled,  beneath  the  canopy  of  the  weeping 
heavens,  under  the  influence  of  feelings  in  which  the  whole 
family  of  Americans  unites  with  us.  We  meet  to  pay  a 
tribute  of  respect  to  the  revered  memory  of  those  to  whom 
the  whole  country  looks  up  as  to  its  benefactors ;  to  whom 
it  ascribes  the  merit  of  unnumbered  public  services,  and 
especially  of  the  inestimable  service  of  having  led  in  the 
councils  of  the  revolution.  It  is  natural  that  these  feelings, 
which  pervade  the  whole  American  people,  should  rise  into 
peculiar  strength  and  earnestness  in  your  hearts.  In  medi- 
tating upon  these  great  men,  your  minds  are  unavoidably 
carried  back  to  those  scenes  of  suffering  and  of  sacrifice  into 
which,  at  the  opening  of  their  arduous  and  honored  career, 
this  town  and  its  citizens  were  so  deeply  plunged.  You 
cannot  but  remember  that  your  fathers  offered  their  bosoms 
to  the  sword,  and  their  dwellings  to  the  flames,  from  the 
same  spirit  which  animated  the  venerable  patriarchs  whom 
we  now  deplore.  The  cause  they  espoused  was  the  same 
which  strewed  your  streets  with  ashes,  and  drenched  your 
hill-tops  with  blood.  And  while  Providence,  in  the  aston- 
ishing circumstances  of  their  departure,  seems  to  have 
appointed  that  the  revolutionary  age  of  America  should  be 
closed  up  by  a  scene  as  illustriously  affecting  as  its  com- 
mencement was  disastrous  and  terrific,  you  have  justly  felt  it 
your  duty  —  it  has  been  the  prompt  dictate  of  your  feelings  — 

*  Delivered  at  Charlestown,  1st  of  August,  1826,  in  commemoration  of 
John  Adams  and  Thomas  Jefferson,  who  died  on  the  4th  of  July  preceding. 

(131) 


132     EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON. 

to  pay,  within  these  hallowed  precincts,  a  well-deserved 
tribute  to  the  great  and  good  men  to  whose  counsels,  under 
God,  it  is  in  no  small  degree  owing,  that  your  dwellings  have 
risen  from  their  ashes,  and  that  the  sacred  dust  of  those  who 
fell  rests  in  the  bosom  of  a  free  and  happy  land. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  primitive  Romans  to  preserve  in 
the  halls  of  their  houses  the  images  of  all  the  illustrious  men 
whom  their  families  had  produced.  These  images  are  sup- 
posed to  have  consisted  of  a  mask  exactly  representing  the 
countenance  of  each  deceased  individual,  accompanied  with 
habiliments  of  like  fashion  with  those  worn  in  his  time,  and 
with  the  armor,  badges,  and  insignia  of  his  offices  and  exploits  ; 
ail  so  disposed  around  the  sides  of  the  hall  as  to  present,  in 
the  attitude  of  living  men,  the  long  succession  of  the  departed ; 
and  thus  to  set  before  the  Roman  citizen,  whenever  he  entered 
or  left  his  house,  the  venerable  array  of  his  ancestors  revived 
in  this  imposing  similitude.  Whenever,  by  a  death  in  the 
family,  another  distinguished  member  of  it  was  gathered  to 
his  fathers,  a  strange  and  awful  procession  was  formed.  The 
ancestral  masks,  including  that  of  the  newly  deceased,  were 
fitted  upon  the  servants  of  the  family,  selected  of  the  size 
and  appearance  of  those  whom  they  were  intended  to  repre- 
sent, and  drawn  up  in  solemn  array  to  follow  the  funeral  train 
of  the  living  mourners,  first  to  the  market-place,  where  the 
public  eulogium  was  pronounced,  and  then  to  the  tomb.  As 
he  thus  moved  along,  with  all  the  great  fathers  of  his  name 
quickening,  as  it  were,  from  their  urns,  to  enkindle  his  emu- 
lation, the  virtuous  Roman  renewed  his  vows  of  respect  to 
their  memory,  and  his  resolution  to  imitate  their  fortitude, 
frugality  and  patriotism.* 

Fellow-citizens,  the  great  heads  of  the  American  family 
are  fast  passing  away ;  of  the  last,  of  the  most  honored,  two 
are  now  no  more.  We  are  assembled,  not  to  gaze  with  awe 
on  the  artificial  and  theatric  images  of  their  features,  but  to 
contemplate  their  venerated  characters,  to  call  to  mind  their 
invaluable  services,  and  to  lay  up  the  image  of  their  virtues 

*  Polyb.  Historian  Lib.  VL  pp.  495,  496,  ed.  Casaubon. 


EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.     133 

in  our  hearts.  The  two  men  who  stood  in  a  relation  in 
which  no  others  now  stand  to  the  whole  Union,  have  fallen. 
The  men  whom  Providence  marked  out  among  the  first  of 
the  favored  instruments  to  lead  this  chosen  people  into  the 
holy  land  of  liberty,  have  discharged  their  high  office,  and 
are  no  more.  The  men  whose  ardent  minds  prompted  them 
to  take  up  their  country's  cause,  when  there  was  nothing  else 
to  prompt,  and  every  thing  to  deter  them ;  the  men  who 
afterwards,  when  the  ranks  were  filled  with  the  brave  and 
resolute,  were  yet  in  the  front  of  those  brave  and  resolute 
ranks ;  the  men  who  were  called  to  the  helm,  when  the 
wisest  and  most  sagacious  were  needed  to  steer  the  newly- 
launched  vessel  through  the  broken  waves  of  the  unknown 
sea;  the  men  who,  in  their  country's  happier  days,  were 
found  most  worthy  to  preside  over  the  Union  they  had  so 
powerfully  contributed  to  rear  into  greatness,  —  these  men 
are  now  no  more. 

They  have  left  us  not  singly,  and  in  the  sad  but  accus- 
tomed succession  appointed  by  the  order  of  nature ;  but 
having  lived,  acted,  and  counselled,  and  risked  all,  and 
triumphed  and  enjoyed  together,  they  have  gone  together  to 
their  great  reward.  In  the  morning  of  life  —  without  previ- 
ous concert,  but  with  a  kindred  spirit — they  plunged  together 
into  a  conflict  which  put  to  hazard  all  which  makes  life 
precious.  When  the  storm  of  war  and  revolution  raged, 
they  stood  side  by  side,  on  such  perilous  ground,  that,  had 
the  American  cause  failed,  though  all  else  had  been  forgiven, 
they  were  of  the  few  whom  an  incensed  empire's  vengeance 
would  have  pursued  to  the  ends  of  the -earth.  When  they 
had  served  through  their  long  career  of  duty,  forgetting  the 
little  that  had  divided  them,  and  cherishing  the  great  com- 
munion of  service,  and  peril,  and  success,  which  had  united 
them,  they  walked  in  honorable  friendship  the  declining 
pathway  of  age ;  and  now  they  have  sunk  down  together  in 
peace.  Time,  and  their  country's  service,  a  like  fortune  and 
a  like  reward,  united  them  ;  and  the  last  great  scene  confirmed 
the  union.  They  were  useful,  honored,  prosperous,  and 
lovely  in  their  lives,  and  in  their  deaths  they  were  not 
divided. 


134    EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON. 

Happiest  at  the  last,  they  were  permitted  almost  to  choose 
the  hour  of  their  departure ;  to  die  on  that  day  on  which 
those  who  loved  them  best  could  have  wished  they  might 
die.  It  is  related  as  a  singular  happiness  of  Plato,  that  he 
died  in  a  good  old  age  at  a  banquet,  amidst  flowers  and  per- 
fumes and  festal  songs,  upon  his  birthday.  Our  Adams 
and  Jefferson  died  on  the  birthday  of  the  nation ;  the  day 
which  their  own  deed  had  immortalized,  which  their  own 
prophetic  spirit  had  marked  out  as  the  great  festival  of  the 
land ;  amidst  the  triumphal  anthems  of  a  whole  grateful 
people ;  throughout  a  country  that  hailed  them  as  among  the 
first  and  boldest  of  her  champions,  in  the  times  that  tried 
men's  souls. 

Our  jubilee,  like  that  of  old,  is  turned  into  sorrow.  Among 
the  ruins  of  Rome  there  is  a  shattered  arch,  erected  by  the 
Emperor  Vespasian,  when  his  son  Titus  returned  from  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem.*  On  its  broken  panels  and  fall-ng 
frieze  are  still  to  be  seen,  represented  as  borne  aloft  in  the 
triumphal  procession  of  Titus,  the  well-known  spoils  of  the 
second  temple  —  the  sacred  vessels  of  the  holy  place,  the 
candlestick  with  seven  branches,  and  in  front  of  all,  the  silver 
trumpets  of  the  jubilee,  in  the  hands  of  captive  priests,  pro- 
claiming not  now  the  liberty,  but  the  humiliation  and  the 
sorrows,  of  Judah.  From  this  mournful  spectacle,  it  is  said, 
the  pious  arid  heart-stricken  Hebrew,  even  to  the  present 
day,  turns  aside  in  sorrow.  He  will  not  enter  Rome  through 
the  gate  of  the  arch  of  Titus,  but  winds  his  way  through 
the  by-paths  of  the  Palatine,  and  over  the  broken  columns  of 
the  palace  of  the  Caesars,  that  he  may  not  behold  these  sad 
memorials. 

The  jubilee  of  America  is  turned  into  mourning.  Its  joy 
is  mingled  with  sadness  ;  its  silver  trumpet  breathes  a  mingled 
strain.  Henceforward,  while  America  exists  among  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth,  the  first  emotion  on  the  fourth  of  July 
will  be  of  joy  and  triumph  in  the  great  event  which  immor- 

*  See  Hadriani  Relandi  de  Spoliis  Templi  Hierosolymitani  in  Arcu 
Titiano  Romse  conspicuis,  liber  singularis ;  in  Ugolini's  Thesaurus,  Tom. 
TX.  p.  1258. 


EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.     135 

talizes  the  day ;  the  second  will  be  one  of  chastened  and 
tender  recollection  of  the  venerable  men,  who  departed  on 
the  morning  of  the  jubilee.  This  mingled  emotion  of 
triumph  and  sadness  has  sealed  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of 
our  great  anniversary.  In  the  simple  commemoration  of  a 
victorious  political  achievement,  there  seems  not  enough  to 
occupy  our  purest  and  best  feelings.  The  fourth  of  July 
was  before  a  day  of  triumph,  exultation,  and  national  pride  ; 
but  the  angel  of  death  has  mingled  in  the  glorious  pageant  to 
teach  us  we  are  men.  Had  our  venerated  fathers  left  us  on  any 
other  day,  it  would  have  been  henceforward  a  day  of  mourn- 
ful recollection.  But  now,  the  whole  nation  feels,  as  with 
one  heart,  that  since  it  must  sooner  or  later  have  been  bereaved 
of  its  revered  fathers,  it  could  not  have  wished  that  any  other 
had  been  the  day  of  their  decease.  Our  anniversary  festival 
was  before  triumphant ;  it  is  now  triumphant  and  sacred.  It 
before  called  out  the  young  and  ardent,  to  join  in  the  public 
rejoicings ;  it  now  also  speaks,  in  a  touching  voice,  to  the 
retired,  to  the  gray-headed,  to  the  mild  and  peaceful  spirits, 
to  the  whole  family  of  sober  freemen.  It  is  henceforward, 
what  the  dying  Adams  pronounced  it,  "  a  great  and  a  good 
day."  It  is  full  of  greatness,  and  full  of  goodness.  It  is 
absolute  and  complete.  The  death  of  the  men  who  declared 
our  independence,  —  their  death  on  the  day  of  the  jubilee,  — 
was  all  that  was  wanting  to  the  fourth  of  July.  To  die  on 
that  day,  and  to  die  together,  was  all  that  was  wanting  to 
Jefferson  and  Adams. 

Think  not,  fellow-citizens,  that,  in  the  mere  formal  dis- 
charge of  my  duty  this  day,  I  would  overrate  the  melancholy 
interest  of  the  great  occasion  ;  I  do  any  thing  but  intention- 
ally overrate  it.  I  labor  only  for  words,  to  do  justice  to  your 
feelings  and  to  mine.  I  can  say  nothing  which  does  not 
sound  as  cold  and  inadequate  to  myself  as  to  you.  The 
theme  is  too  great  and  too  surprising,  the  men  are  too  great 
and  good,  to  be  spoken  of  in  this  cursory  manner.  There  is 
too  much  in  the  contemplation  of  their  united  characters, 
their  services,  the  day  and  coincidence  of  their  death,  to  be 
properly  described,  or  to  be  fully  felt  at  once.  I  dare  not 


136     EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON. 

come  here  and  dismiss,  in  a  few  summary  paragraphs,  the 
characters  of  men  who  have  filled  such  a  space  in  the  history 
of  their  age.  It  would  be  a  disrespectful  familiarity  with 
men  of  their  lofty  spirits,  their  rich  endowments,  their  long 
and  honorable  lives,  to  endeavor  thus  to  weigh  and  estimate 
them.  I  leave  that  arduous  task  to  the  genius  of  kindred 
elevation,  by  whom  to-morrow  it  will  be  discharged.*  I  feel 
the  mournful  contrast  in  the  fortunes  even  of  the  first  and 
best  of  men,  that,  after  a  life  in  the  highest  walks  of  useful- 
ness ;  after  conferring  benefits,  not  merely  on  a  neighbor- 
hood, a  city,  or  even  a  state,  but  on  a  whole  continent,  and  a 
posterity  of  kindred  men  ;  after  having  stood  in  the  first 
estimation  for  talents,  services,  and  influence,  among  millions 
of  fellow-citizens, — a  day  must  come,  which  closes  all  up  ; 
pronounces  a  brief  blessing  on  their  memory  ;  gives  an  hour 
to  the  actions  of  a  crowded  life  ;  describes  in  a  sentence 
what  it  took  years  to  bring  to  pass,  and  what  is  destined  for 
years  and  ages  to  operate  on  posterity  ;  passes  forgetfully 
over  many  traits  of  character,  many  counsels  and  measures, 
which  it  cost,  perhaps,  years  of  discipline  and  effort  to 
mature  ;  utters  a  funeral  prayer  ;  chants  a  mournful  anthem  ; 
and  then  dismisses  all  into  the  dark  chambers  of  death  and 
forgetfulness. 

But  no,  fellow-citizens ;  we  dismiss  them  not  to  the  cham- 
bers of  forgetfulness  and  death.  What  we  admired,  and 
prized,  and  venerated  in  them,  can  never  be  forgotten.  I 
had  almost  said  that  they  are  now  beginning  to  live  ;  to  live 
that  life  of  unimpaired  influence,  of  unclouded  fame,  of 
unmingled  happiness,  for  which  their  talents  and  services 
were  destined.  They  were  of  the  select  few,  the  least 
portion  of  whose  life  dwells  in  their  physical  existence  ; 
whose  hearts  have  watched,  while  their  senses  have  slept ; 
whose  souls  have  grown  up  into  a  higher  being  ;  whose 
pleasure  is  to  be  useful  ;  whose  wealth  is  an  unblemished 
reputation  ;  who  respire  the  breath  of  honorable  fame  ;  who 


*  A  Eulogy  was  delivered  on  Adams  and  Jefferson,  on  the  following 
day,  in  Faneuil  Hall,  in  Boston,  by  Daniel  Webster. 


EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.     137 

have  deliberately  and  consciously  put  what  is  called  life  to 
hazard,  that  they  may  live  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  come 
after.  Such  men  do  not,  cannot  die.  To  be  cold  and 
breathless  ;  to  feel  not  and  speak  not ;  this  is  not  the  end  of 
existence  to  the  men  who  have  breathed  their  spirits  into  the 
institutions  of  their  country,  who  have  stamped  their  charac- 
ters on  the  pillars  of  the  age,  who  have  poured  their  hearts' 
blood  into  the  channels  of  the  public  prosperity.  Tell  me, 
ye  who  tread  the  sods  of  yon  sacred  height,  is  Warren  dead  ? 
Can  you  not  still  see  him,  not  pale  and  prostrate,  the  blood 
of  his  gallant  heart  pouring  out  of  his  ghastly  wound,  but 
moving  resplendent  over  the  field  of  honor,  with  the  rose  of 
heaven  upon  his  cheek,  and  the  fire  of  liberty  in  his  eye  ? 
Tell  me,  ye  who  make  your  pious  pilgrimage  to  the  shades 
of  Vernon,  is  Washington  indeed  shut  up  in  that  cold  and 
narrow  house  ?  That  which  made  these  men,  and  men  like 
these,  cannot  die.  The  hand  that  traced  the  charter  of 
independence  is,  indeed,  motionless  ;  the  eloquent  lips  that 
sustained  it  are  hushed  ;  but  the  lofty  spirits  that  conceived, 
resolved,  and  maintained  it,  and  which  alone,  to  such  men, 
"  make  it  life  to  live,"  these  cannot  expire  ;  — 

"  These  shall  resist  the  empire  of  decay, 
When  time  is  o'er,  and  worlds  have  passed  away ; 
Cold  in  the  dust  the  perished  heart  may  lie, 
But  that  which  warmed  it  once  can  never  die." 

This  is  their  life,  and  this  their  eulogy.  In  these  oui 
feeble  services  of  commemoration,  we  set  forth  not  their 
worth,  but  our  own  gratitude.  The  eulogy  of  those  who 
declared  our  independence  is  written  in  the  whole  history 
of  independent  America.  I  do  not  mean  that  they  alone 
achieved  our  liberties  ;  nor  should  we  bring  a  grateful  oiler- 
ing  to  their  tombs,  in  sacrificing  at  them  the  merits  of  their 
contemporarie's.  But  no  one,  surely,  who  considers  the. 
history  of  the  times,  the  state  of  opinions,  and  the  obstacles 
that  actually  stood  in  the  way  of  success,  can  doubt  that,  if 
John  Adams  and  Thomas  Jefferson  had  thrown  their  talents 
and  influence  into  the  scale  of  submission,  the  effect  would 

VOL.   I  IS 


138     EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON. 

have  been  felt  to  the  cost  of  America,  for  ages.  No,  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  ages  on  ages  may  pass,  and  the  popula- 
tion of  the  United  States  may  overflow  the  uttermost  regions 
of  this  continent,  but  never  can  there  be  an  American  citizen 
who  will  not  bear  in  his  condition  and  in  his  welfare  some 
trace  of  what  was  counselled,  and  said,  and  done  by  these 
great  men.  This  is  their  undying  praise  ;  a  praise  which 
knows  no  limits  but  those  of  America,  and  Avhicli  is  uttered 
not  merely  in  these  our  eulogies,  but  in  the  thousand  inar- 
ticulate voices  of  art  and  nature.  It  sounds  from  the  wood- 
man's axe,  in  the  distant  forests  of  the  west ;  for  what  was 
it  that  unbarred  to  him  the  gates  of  the  mountains  ?  The 
busy  water-wheel  echoes  back  the  strain  ;  for  what  was  it 
that  released  the  industry  of  the  country  from  the  fetters  of 
colonial  restriction  ?  Their  praise  is  borne  on  the  swelling 
canvas  of  America  to  distant  oceans,  where  the  rumor  of 
acts  of  trade  never  came  ;  for  what  was  it  that  sent  our 
canvas  there  ?  and  it  glistens  at  home,  in  the  eyes  of  a  pros- 
perous arid  grateful  people.  Yes,  the  people,  the  people  rise 
up  and  call  them  blessed.  They  invoke  eternal  blessings  on 
the  men  who  could  be  good  as  well  as  great ;  whose  ambition 
was  their  country's  welfare  ;  who  did  not  ask  to  be  rewarded 
by  being  allowed  to  oppress  the  country  which  they  redeemed 
from  oppression. 

I  shall  not,  fellow-citizens,  on  this  occasion,  attempt  a 
detailed  narrative  of  the  lives  of  these  distinguished  men. 
To  relate  their  history  at  length  would  be  to  relate  that  of 
the  country,  from  their  first  entrance  on  public  life  to  their 
final  retirement.  Even  to  dwell  minutely  on  the  more  con- 
spicuous incidents  of  their  career,  would  cause  me  to  trespass 
too  far  on  the  proper  limits  of  the  occasion.  Let  us  only 
enumerate  those  few  leading  points  in  their  lives  and  charac- 
ters, which  will  best  guide  us  to  the  reflections  we  ought  to 
make,  while  we  stand  at  the  tombs  of  these  excellent  and 
honored  men. 

Mr  Adams  was  born  on  the  30th  of  October,  1735,  and  Mr 
Jefferson  on  the  13th  of  April,  1743.  One  of  them  rose  from 
the  undistinguished  mass  of  the  community,  while  the  other. 


EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.     139 

born  in  higher  circumstances,  voluntarily  descended  to  its 
level.  Although,  happily,  in  this  country  it  cannot  be  said  of 
any  one,  that  he  owes  much  to  birth  or  family,  yet  it  some- 
times happens,  even  under  the  equality  which  prevails  among 
us,  that  a  certain  degree  of  deference  follows  in  the  train  of 
family  connections,  apart  from  all  personal  merit.  Mr  Adams 
was  the  son  of  a  New  England  farmer,  arid  in  this  alone,  the 
frugality  and  moderation  of  his  bringing  up  are  sufficiently 
related.  Mr  Jefferson  owed  more  to  birth.  He  inherited  a 
good  estate  from  his  respectable  father ;  but  instead  of  asso- 
ciating himself  with  the  opulent  interest  in  Virginia,  —  at  that 
time,  in  consequence  of  the  mode  in  which  their  estates  were 
held  and  transmitted,  an  exclusive  and  powerful  class,  and  of 
which  he  might  have  become  a  powerful  leader,  —  he  threw 
himself  into  the  ranks  of  the  people. 

It  was  a  propitious  coincidence,  that  of  these  two  eminent 
statesmen,  one  was  from  the  north,  and  the  other  from  the 
south  ;  as  if,  in  the  happy  effects  of  their  joint  action,  to  give 
us  the  first  lesson  of  union.  The  enemies  of  our  independ- 
ence, at  home  and  abroad,  relied  on  the  difficulty  of  uniting 
the  colonies  in  one  harmonious  system.  They  knew  the  dif- 
ference in  our  local  origin ;  they  exaggerated  the  points  of 
dissimilarity  in  our  sectional  character.  It  was  therefore  most 
auspicious  that,  in  the  outset  of  the  revolution,  while  the 
north  and  the  south  had  each  its  great  rallying  point  in  Vir- 
ginia and  Massachusetts,  the  wise  and  good  men,  whose  influ- 
ence was  most  felt  in  each,  moved  forward  in  brotherhood 
and  concert.  Mr  Quincy,  in  a  visit  to  the  southern  colonies, 
had  entered  into  an  extensive  correspondence  with  the  friends 
of  liberty  in  that  part  of  the  country.  Richard  Henry  Lee 
and  his  brother  Arthur  maintained  a  constant  intercourse  with 
Samuel  Adams.  Dr  Franklin,  though  a  citizen  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, was  a  native  of  Boston ;  and  from  the  first  moment  of 
their  meeting  at  Philadelphia,  Jefferson  and  Adams  began  to 
cooperate  cordially  in  the  great  work  of  independence.  While 
theoretical  politicians,  at  home  and  abroad,  were  speculating 
on  our  local  peculiarities,  and  the  British  ministry  were  build- 
ing their  hopes  upon  the  maxim,  Divide  and  conquer,  they 


140  EULOGY    ON    ADAMS    AND    JEFFERSON. 

might  well  have  been  astonished  to  see  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  reported  into  Congress,  by  the  joint  labor  of  the 
son  of  a  Virginia  planter  and  of  a  New  England  yeoman. 

Adams  and  Jefferson  received  their  academical  education 
at  the  colleges  of  their  native  states,  the  former  at  Cambridge, 
the  latter  at  William  and  Mary.  At  these  institutions,  they 
severally  laid  the  foundation  of  very  distinguished  attain- 
ments as  scholars,  and  formed  a  taste  for  letters  which  was 
fresh  and  craving  to  the  last.  They  were  both  familiar  with 
the  ancient  languages,  and  their  literature.  Their  range  in. 
the  various  branches  of  general  reading  was  perhaps  equally 
wide,  and  was  uncommonly  extensive ;  and  it  is,  I  believe, 
doing  no  injustice  to  any  other  honored  name,  to  say  that,  in 
this  respect,  they  stood  at  the  head  of  the  great  men  of  the 
revolution. 

Their  first  writings  were  devoted  to  the  cause  of  their 
country.  Mr  Adams,  in  1765,  published  his  essay  on  the 
Canon  and  Feudal  Law,  which  two  years  afterwards  was  re  pub- 
lished in  London,  and  was  there  pronounced  one  of  the  ablest 
performances  which  had  crossed  the  Atlantic.*  It  expresses 

*  The  copy  I  possess  of  this  work  was  printed  by  Almon,  at  London,  in 
1768,  as  a  sequel  to  some  other  political  pieces,  with  the  following  title 
and  preliminary  note :  "  The  following  dissertation,  which  was  written  at 
Boston,  in  New  England,  in  the  year  1765,  and  then  printed  there  in  the 
Gazette,  being  very  curious,  and  having  connection  with  this  publication, 
it  is  thought  proper  to  reprint  it." 

"The  author  of  it  is  said  to  have  been  Jeremy  Gridley,  Esq.,  attorney- 
general  of  the  province  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  member  of  the  General 
Court,  colonel  of  the  first  regiment  of  militia,  president  of  the  Marine  Soci- 
ety, and  grand  master  of  the  freemasons.  He  died  at  Boston,  Sept.  7, 1767. 

"w3  Dissertation  on  the  Canon  and  Feudal  Laic." 

This  copy  formerly  belonged  to  Dr  Andrew  Eliot,  to  whom  it  was  pre- 
sented by  Thomas  Hollis.  Directly  above  the  title  is  written,  apparently 
in  Dr  A.  Eliot's  handwriting,  "  The  author  of  this  Dissertation  is  John 
Adams,  Esq."  And  at  the  foot  of  the  page  is  the  following  note,  in  the 
same  handwriting,  but  marked  with  inverted  commas,  as  a  quotation,  and 
signed  T.  H. 

"  The  Dissertation  on  the  Canon  and  Feudal  Law  is  one  of  the  very 
finest  productions  ever  seen  from  N.  America." 

"  By  a  letter  from  Boston  in  N.  E.,  signed  SUI  JURIS,  inserted  in  that 


EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.     141 

the  boldest  and  most  elevated  sentiments,  in  the  most  vigorous 
language  ;  and  might  have  taught  in  its  tone,  what  it  taught 
in  its  doctrine,  that  America  must  be  unoppressed,  or  must 
become  independent.  Among  Mr  Jefferson's  first  productions 
was,  in  like  manner,  a  political  essay,  entitled  "  A  Summary 
View  of  the  Rights  of  British  America."  It  contains  a  near 
approach  to  the  ideas  and  language  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  ;  and  its  bold  spirit,  and  polished,  but  at  the 
same  time,  powerful  execution,  are  known  to  have  had  their 
effect  in  causing  its  author  to  be  designated  for  the  high  trusts 
confided  to  him  in  the  Continental  Congress.  At  a  later 
period  of  life,  Mr  Jefferson  became  the  author  of  the  "  Notes 
on  Virginia,"  a  work  equally  admired  in  Europe  and  America ; 
and  Mr  Adams  6f  the  "  Defence  of  the  American  Constitu- 
tions," a  performance  that  would  do  honor  to  the  political 
literature  of  any  country.  But  in  enumerating  their  literary 
productions,  it  must  be  remembered  that  they  were  both  em- 
ployed, the  greater  part  of  their  lives,  in  the  active  duties  of 
public  service ;  and  that  the  fruits  of  their  intellect  are  not 
to  be  sought  in  the  systematic  volumes  of  learned  leisure,  but 
in  the  archives  of  state,  and  in  a  most  extensive  public  and 
private  correspondence. 

The  professional  education  of  these  distinguished  statesmen 
had  been  in  the  law,  and  was  therefore  such  as  peculiarly 
fitted  them  for  the  contest  in  which  they  were  to  act  as 
leaders.  The  law  of  England,  then  the  law  of  America,  is 
closely  connected  with  the  history  of  the  liberty  of  England. 
Many  of  the  questions  at  issue  between  the  Parliament  of 
Great  Britain  and  the  colonies  were  questions  of  constitu- 
tional, if  not  of  common  law.  For  the  discussion  of  these 
questions,  the  legal  profession,  of  course,  furnished  the  best 
preparation.  In  general,  the  contest  was,  happily  for  the  col- 
onies, at  first  forensic ;  a  contest  of  discussion  and  debate  ; 
affording  time  and  opportunity  to  diffuse  throughout  the 


valuable  newspaper,  the  London  Chronicle,  July  19,  it  should  seem  the  writer 
of  it  happily  yet  lives ! "    T.  H. 

This  was  said  fifty-eight  years  ago ! 


142  EULOGY    ON    ADAMS    AND    JEFFERSON. 

people,  and  stamp  deeply  on  their  minds,  the  great  principles 
which,  having  first  been  triumphantly  sustained  in  the  argu- 
ment, were  then  to  be  confirmed  in  the  field.  This  required 
the  training  of  the  patriot  lawyer,  and  this  was  the  office 
which,  in  that  capacity,  was  eminently  discharged  by  Jeffer- 
son and  Adams,  to  the  doubtful  liberties  of  their  country. 
The  cause  in  which  they  were  engaged  abundantly  repaid 
the  service  and  the  hazard.  It  gave  them  precisely  that 
breadth  of  view  and  elevation  of  feeling  which  the  technical 
routine  of  the  profession  is  too  apt  to  destroy.  Their  prac- 
tice of  the  law  soon  passed  from  the  narrow  litigation  of  the 
courts  to  the  great  forum  of  contending  empires.  It  was  not 
nice  legal  fictions  they  were  there  employed  to  balance,  but 
sober  realities  of  indescribable  weight.  The  life  and  death 
of  their  country  was  the  all-important  issue.  Nor  did  the 
service  of  their  country  afterwards  afford  them  leisure  for  the 
ordinary  practice  of  their  profession.  Mr  Jefferson  indeed, 
in  1776  and  1777,  was  employed,  with  Wythe  and  Pendleton, 
in  an  entire  revision  of  the  code  of  Virginia ;  and  Mr  Adams 
was  offered,  about  the  same  time,  the  first  seat  on  the  bench 
of  the  Superior  Court  of  his  native  state.  But  each  was 
shortly  afterwards  called  to  a  foreign  mission,  and  spent  the 
rest  of  the  active  years  of  his  life,  with  scarce  an  interval,  in 
the  political  service  of  his  country. 

Such  was  the  education  and  quality  of  these  men,  when 
the  revolutionary  contest  came  on.  In  1774,  and  on  the 
seventeenth  of  June,  — a  day  destined  to  be  in  every  way  illus- 
trious, —  Mr  Adams  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Continental 
Congress,  of  which  body  he  was  from  the  first  a  distinguished 
leader.  In  the  month  of  June  in  the  following  year,  when 
a  commander-iri-chief  was  to  be  chosen  for  the  American 
armies,  and  when  that  appointment  seemed  in  course  to 
belong  to  the  commanding  general  of  the  army  from  Massa- 
chusetts and  the  neighboring  states,  which  had  rushed  to  the 
field,  Mr  Adams  recommended  George  Washington  to  that 
all-important  post,  and  was  thus  far  the  means  of  securing 
the  blessing  of  his  guidance  to  the  American  armies.  In 
August,  1775,  Mr  Jefferson  took  his  seat  in  the  Continental 


EULOGY    ON    ADAMS    AND    JEFFERSON.  143 

Congress,  preceded  by  the  fame  of  being  one  of  fhe  most 
accomplished  and  powerful  champions  of  the  cause,  though 
among  the  youngest  members  of  that  body.  It  was  the  wish 
of  Mr  Adams,  and  probably  of  Mr  Jefferson,  that  independ- 
ence should  be  declared  in  the  fall  of  1775 ;  but  the  country 
seemed  not  then  ripe  for  the  measure. 

At  length,  the  accepted  time  arrived.  In  May,  1776,  the 
colonies,  on  the  proposition  of  Mr  Adams,  were  invited  by 
the  General  Congress  to  establish  their  several  state  govern- 
ments. On  the  seventh  of  June,  the  resolution  of  independ- 
ence was  moved  by  Richard  Henry  Lee.  On  the  eleventh, 
a  committee  of  five  was  chosen  to  announce  this  resolution 
to  the  world;  and  Thomas  Jefferson  and  John  Adams  stood 
at  the  head  of  this  committee.  From  their  designation  by 
ballot  to  this  most  honorable  duty,  their  prominent  standing 
in  the  Congress  might  alone  be  inferred.  In  their  amicable 
contention  and  deference  each  to  the  other  of  the  great  trust 
of  composing  the  all-important  document,  we  witness  their 
patriotic  disinterestedness  and  their  mutual  respect.  This 
trust  devolved  on  Jefferson,  and  with  it  rests  on  him  the  im- 
perishable renown  of  having  penned  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. To  have  been  the  instrument  of  expressing,  in 
one  brief,  decisive  act,  the  concentrated  will  and  resolution 
of  a  whole  family  of  states ;  of  unfolding,  in  one  all-impor- 
tant manifesto,  the  causes,  the  motives,  and  the  justification 
of  this  great  movement  in  human  affairs ;  to  have  been 
permitted  to  give  the  impress  and  peculiarity  of  his  own 
mind  to  a  charter  of  public  right,  destined,  or,  rather,  let  me 
say,  already  elevated,  to  an  importance,  in  the  estimation  of 
men,  equal  to  any  thing  human,  ever  borne  on  parchment,  or 
expressed  in  the  visible  signs  of  thought,  —  this  is  the  glory 
of  Thomas  Jefferson.  To  have  been  among  the  first  of  those 
who  foresaw  and  broke  the  way  for  this  great  consummation  ; 
to  have  been  the  mover  of  numerous  decisive  acts,  its  un- 
doubted precursors ;  to  have  been  among  many  able  anO 
generous  spirits,  united  in  this  perilous  adventure,  by 
acknowledgment  unsurpassed  in  zeal,  and  unequalled  in  abil- 
ity ;  to  have  been  exclusively  associated  with  the  author  of 


144  EULOGY    ON    ADAMS    AND    JEFFERSON. 

the  Declaration;  and  then,  with  a  fervid  and  overwhelming 
eloquence,  to  haVe  taken  the  lead  in  inspiring  the  Congress 
to  adopt  and  proclaim  it,. —  this  is  the  glory  of  John  Adams. 
•  Nor  was  it  among  common  and  inferior  minds  that  these 
men  were  preeminent.  In  the  body  that  elected  Mr  Jeiferson 
to  draft  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  there  were  other 
men  of  great  ability.  Franklin  was  a  member  of  it,  a  states- 
man of  the  highest  reputation  in  Europe  and  America,  and 
especially  master  of  a  most  pure,  effective  English  style  of 
writing.  And  Mr 'Adams  was  pronounced  by  Mr  Jefferson 
himself  the1  ablest  advocate  of  independence,  in  a  Congress 
which  could  boast  among  its  members  such  men  as  Patrick 
Henry,  Richard  Henry  Lee,  arid  our  own  Samuel  Adams. 
They  were  great  and  among  great  men  ;  mightiest  among 
the  mighty  ;  and  enjoyed  their  lofty  standing  in  a  body,  of 
which  half  the  members  might  with  honor  have  presided 
ovei  the  deliberative  councils  of  a  nation. 

Glorious  as  their  standing 'in  this  council  of  sages  has 
proved,  they  beheld  the  glory  only  in  distant  vision,  while  the 
prospect  before  them  was  shrouded  with  darkness  and  terror. 
"  I  am  not  transported  with  enthusiasm,"  is  the  language 
of  Mr  Adams,  the  day  after  the  resolution  was  adopted.  "  I 
am  well  aware  of  the  toil,  the  treasure,  and  the  blood  it  will 
cost,  to  maintain  this  declaration,  to  support  and  defend  these 
states.  Yet,  through  all  the  gloom,  I  can  see  a  ray  of  light 
and  glory.  I  can  see  that  the  end  is  worth  more  than  all  the 
means."  Nor  was  it  the  rash  adventure  of  uneasy  spirits, 
who  had  every  thing  to  gain,  and  nothing  to  risk,  by  their 
enterprise.  They  left  all  for  their  country's  sake.  Who  does 
not  see  that  Adams  and  Jefferson  might  have  risen  to  any 
station  in  the  British  empire  open  to  natives  of  a  colony  ? 
They  might  have  stood  within  the  shadow  of  the  throne 
which  they  shook  to  its  base.  It  was  in  the  full  understand- 
ing of  their  air  but  desperate  choice  that  they  chose  for  their 
country.  Many  were  the  inducements  which  called  them  to 
another  choice.  The  voice  of  authority  ;  the  array  of  an 
empire's  power ;  the  pleading's  of  friendship;  the  yearning 
of  their  hearts  towards  the  land  of  their  fathers'  sepulchres  — 


EU'LOGY    ON    ADAMS    AND    JEFFERSON.  145 

the  land  which  the  great  champions  of  constitutional  liberty 
still  made  venerable  ;  the  ghastly  vision  of  the  gibbet,  if  they 
failed,  —  all  the  feelings  which  grew  from  these  sources  were 
to  be  stifled  and  kept  'down,  for  a  dearer  treasure  was  at 
stake.  They  were  any  thing  but  adventurers,  any  thing  but 
malecontents.  They  loved  peace,  order,  and  law ;  they 
loved  a  manly  obedience  to  constitutional  authority;  but 
they  loved  freedom  and  their  country  more. 

How  shall  I  attempt  to  follow  them  through  the  succession 
of  great  events  which  a  rare  and  kind  Providence  crowded 
into  their  lives  ?  How  shall  I  attempt  to  enumerate  the  posts 
they  filled  and  the  trusts  they  discharged,  both  in  the  coun- 
cils of  their  native  states  and  of  the  confederation,  both 
before  and  after  the  adoption  of  the  federal  constitution  ;  the 
codes  of  law  and  systems  of  government  they  aided  in  organ- 
izing ;  the  foreign  embassies  they  sustained  ;  the  alliances 
with  powerful  states  they  contracted,  when  America  was 
weak  ;  the  loans  and  subsidies  they  procured  from  foreign 
powers,  when  America  was  poor ;  the  treaties  of  peace  and 
commerce  which  they  negotiated  ;  their  participation  in  the 
federal  government  on  its  organization,  Mr  Adams  as  the 
first  vice-president,  Mr  Jefferson  as  the  first  secretary  of 
state  ;  their  mutual  possession  of  the  confidence  of  the  only 
man  to  whom  his  country  accorded  £.  higher  place  ;  and  their 
successive  administrations  of  the  government,  after  his  retire- 
ment ?  These  all  are  laid  up  in  the  annals  of  the  country  ; 
her  archives  are  filled  with  the  productions  of  their  fertile 
and  cultivated  minds  ;  the  pages  of  her  history  are  bright 
with  their  achievements  ;  and  the  welfare  and  happiness  of 
America  pronounce,  iri  one  general  eulogy,  the  just  encomium 
of  their  services. 

-  Nor  need  we  fear  to  speak  of  their  political  dissensions.  If 
they  who  opposed  each  other,  and  arrayed  the  nation,  in  their 
arduous  contention,  were  able  in  the  bosom  of  private  life  to 
forget  their  former  struggles,  we  surely  may  contemplate 
them,  even  in  this  relation,  with  calmness.  Of  the  counsels 
adopted  and  the  measures  pursued,  in  the  storm  of  political 
warfare,  I  presume  not  to  speak.  I  knew  these  great  men, 
VOL.  i.  19 


146  EULOGY    ON    ADAMS    AND    JEFFERSON. 

not  as  opponents,  but  as  friends  to  each  other ;  not  in  the 
keen  prosecution  of  a  political  controversy,  but  in  the  culti- 
vation of  a  friendly  correspondence.  As  they  respected  and 
honored  each  other,  I  respect  and  honor  both.  Time,  too, 
has  removed  the  foundation  of  their  dissensions.  The  prin- 
ciples on  which  they  contended  are  settled,  some  in  favor  of 
one,  and  some  in  favor  of  the  other.  The  great  foreign 
interests  which  lent  ardor  to  the  struggle  have  happily  lost 
their  hold  on  the  American  people  ;  and  the  politics  of  the 
country  now  turn  on  questions  not  agitated  in  their  days. 
Meantime,  I  know  not  whether,  if  we  had  it  in  our  power  to 
choose  between  the  recollection  of  these  revered  men  as 
they  were,  and  what  they  would  have  been  without  their 
great  struggle,  we  could  wish  them  to  have  been  different, 
even  in  this  respect.  Twenty  years  of  friendship  succeeding 
ten  of  rivalry  appear  to  me  a  more  amiable,  and  certainly 
a  more  instructive,  spectacle  even  than  a  life  of  unbroken 
concert.  As  a  friend  to  both  their  respected  memories, 
I  would  not  willingly  spare  the  attestation  which  they 
took  pleasure  in  rendering  to  each  other's  characters.  We 
are  taught,  in  the  valedictory  lessons  of  Washington,  that 
"  the  spirit  of  party  is  the  worst  enemy  of  a  popular  govern- 
ment." Shall  we  not  rejoice  that  we  are  taught,  in  the  lives 
of  Adams  and  Jefferson,  {hat  the  most  imbittered  contentions 
which  as  yet  have  divided  us  furnish  no  ground  for  lasting 
disunion  ? 

The  declining  period  of  their  lives  presents  their  characters 
in  the  most  delightful  aspect,  and  furnishes  the  happiest  illus- 
tration of  the  perfection  of  our  political  system.  We  behold 
a  new  spectacle  of  moral  sublimity ;  the  peaceful  old  age  of 
the  retired  chiefs  of  the  republic ;  an  evening  of  learned, 
useful,  and  honored  leisure  following  upon  a  youth  and  man- 
hood of  hazard  and  service,  and  a  whole  life  of  alternate  trial 
and  success.  We  behold  them,  indeed,  active  and  untiring, 
even  to  the  last.  At  the  advanced  age  of  eighty-five  years,  our 
venerable  fellow-citizen  and  neighbor  was  still  competent  to 
take  a  part  in  the  convention  for  revising  the  state  constitu- 
tion, to  whose  original  formation,  forty  years  before,  he  so 


EULOGY  ON  ADAMS  AND  JEFFERSON.     147 

essentially  contributed  ;  and  Mr.  Jefferson,  at  the  same  pro- 
tracted age,  was  able  to  project,  and  carry  on  to  their  com- 
pletion, the  extensive  establishments  of  the  University  of 
Virginia. 

But  it  is  the  great  and  closing  scene,  which  appears  to  crown 
their  long  and  exalted  career  with  a  consummation  almost 
miraculous.  Having  done  so  much  and  so  happily  for  them- 
selves, so  much  and  so  beneficially  for  their  country,  at  that 
last  moment,  when  man  can  no  more  do  any  thing  for  his 
country  or  for  himself,  it  pleased  a  kind  Providence  to  do  that 
for  both  of  them,  which,  to  the  end  of  time,  will  cause  them 
to  be  deemed  not  more  happy  in  the  renown  of  their  lives, 
than  in  the  opportunity  of  their  death.* 

I  could  give  neither  force  nor  interest  to  the  account 
of  these  sublime  and  touching  scenes,  by  any  thing  beyond 
the  simple  recital  of  the  facts  already  familiar  to  the 
public.  Their  deaths  were  nearly  simultaneous.  For 
several  weeks,  the  strength  of  Mr  Jefferson  had  been 
gradually  failing,  though  the  vigor  of  his  mind  remained 
Unimpaired.  As  he  drew  nearer  to  the  last,  and  no  expecta- 
tion remained  that  his  term  could  be  much  prolonged,  he 
expressed  no  other  wish  than  that  he  might  live  to  breathe 
the  air  of  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  independence.  This  he 
was  graciously  permitted  to  do.  But  it  was  evident,  on  the 
morning  of  the  fourth,  that  Providence  intended  that  this 
day,  consecrated  by  his  deed,  should  be  solemnized  by  his 
death.  On  some  momentary  revival  of  his  wasting  strength, 
the  friends  around  would  have  soothed  him  with  the  hope  of 
continuing  ;  but  he  answered  their  encouragements  only  by 
saying,  he  did  not  fear  to  die.  Once,  as  he  drew  nearer  to 
his  close,  he  lifted  up  his  head,  and  murmured  with  a  smile, 
"  It  is  the  fourth  of  July  ;  "  while  his  repeated  exclamation, 
on  the  last  great  day,  was,  Nunc  dimittis,  Domine —  "  Lord, 
now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace."  He  depart- 
ed in  peace,  a  little  before  one  o'clock  of  this  memorable 
day  ;  unconscious  that  his  compatriot,  who  fifty  years  before 

.  «  Tacit,  J.  Agricol.  ViL  Cap.  XLV. 


148  EULOGY    ON    ADAMS    AND    JEFFERSON. 

had  shared  its  efforts  and  perils,  was  now  the  partner  of  its 
glory. 

Mr  Adams's  mind  had  also  wandered  back,  over  the  long 
line  of  great  things,  with  which  his  life  was  filled,  and  found 
rest  on  the  thought  of  Independence.  When  the  discharges 
of  artillery  proclaimed  the  triumphant  anniversary,  he  pro- 
nounced it  "a  great  and  a  good  day."  The  thrilling  word  of 
Independence,  which,  fifty  years  before,  in  the  ardor  of  his 
manly  strength,  he  had  sounded  out  to  the  nations  from  the 
hall  of  the  revolutionary  Congress,  was  now  among  the  last 
that  dwelt  on  his  lips  ;  and  when,  towards  the  hour  of  noon, 
he  felt  his  noble  heart  growing  cold  within  him,  the  last  emo- 
tion which  warmed  it  was,  that  "Jefferson  still  survives." 
But  he  survives  riot ;  he  is  gone.  They  are  gone  together  ! 

Friends,  fellow-citizens,  free,  prosperous,  happy  Americans ! 
The  men  who  did  so  much  to  make  you  so  are  no  more.  The 
men  who  gave  nothing  to  pleasure  in  youth,  nothing  to  repose 
in  age,  but  all  to  that  country,  whose  beloved  name  filled  their 
hearts,  as  it  does  ours,  with  joy,  can  now  do  no  more  for  us ; 
nor  we  for  them.  But  their  memory  remains,  we  will  cherish 
it ;  their  bright  example  remains,  we  will  strive  to  imitate  it ; 
the  fruit  of  their  wise  counsels  and  noble  acts  remains,  we 
will  gratefully  enjoy  it. 

They  have  gone  to  the  companions  of  their  cares,  of  their 
dangers,  and  their  toils.  It  is  well  with  them.  The  treas- 
ures of  America  are  'now  in  heaven.  How  long  the  list  of 
our  good,  and  wise,  'and  brave,  assembled  there !  How  few 
remain  with  lis  !  There  is  our  Washington  ;  and  those  who 
followed  him  in  their  country's  confidence  are  now  n)*1 
together  with  him,  and  all  that  illustrious  company. 

The  faithful  marble  may  preserve  their  image ;  the  en- 
graven brass  may  proclaim  their  worth ;  but  the  humblest 
sod  of  Independent  America,  with  nothing  but  the  dew-drops 
of  the  morning  to  gild  it,  is  a  prouder  mausoleum  than  kings 
or  conquerors  can  boast.  The  country  is  their  monument. 
Its  independence  is  their  epitaph.  But  not  to  their  country 
is  their  praise  limited.  The  whole  earth  is  the  monument 
of  illustrious  men.  Wherever  an  agonizing  people  shall 


EULOGY    ON    ADAMS    AND    JEFFERSON.  149 

perish,  in  a  generous  convulsion,  for  want  of  a  valiant  arm 
and  a  fearless  heart,  they  will  cry,  in  the  last  accents  of 
despair,  O  for  a  Washington,  an  Adams,  a  Jefferson !  Wher- 
ever a  regenerated  nation,  starting  up  in  its  might,  shall  burst 
the  links  of  steel  that  enchain  it,  the  praise  of  our  venerated 
fathers  shall  be  remembered  in  their  triumphal  song ! 

The  contemporary  and  successive  generations  of  men  will 
disappear,  and  in  the  long  lapse  of  ages,  the  races  of  America, 
like  those  of  Greece  and  Rome,  may  pass  away.  The  fabric 
of  American  freedom,  like  all  things  human,  however  firm 
and  fair,  may  crumble  into  dust.  But  the  cause  in  which 
these  our  fathers  shone  is  immortal.  They  did  that  to  which 
no  age,  no  people  of  civilized  men,  can  be  indifferent.  Their 
eulogy  will  be  uttered  in  other  languages,  when  those  we 
speak,  like  us  who  speak  them,  shall  be  all  forgotten.  And 
when  the  great  account  of  humanity  shall  be  closed,  in  the 
bright  list  of  those  who  have  best  adorned  and  served  it,  shall 
be  found  the  names  of  our  Adams  and  our  Jefferson ! 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 


nr  » 


L?ELLOw-OrrizENs : 

THE  event  which  we  commemorate  is  all-important,  not 
merely  in  our  own  annals,  but  in  those  of  the  world.  The 
sententious  English  poet  has  declared,  that  "  the  proper  study 
of  mankind  is  man ; "  and  of  all  inquiries  of  a  temporal  na- 
ture, the  history  of  our  fellow-beings  is  unquestionably 
among  the  most  interesting.  But  not  all  the  chapters  of 
human  history  are  alike  important.  The  annals  of  our  race 
have  been  filled  up  with  incidents  which  concern  not,  or  at 
least  ought  not  to  concern,  the  great  company  of  mankind. 
History,  as  it  has  often  been  written,  is  the  genealogy  of 
princes,  —  the  field-book  of  conquerors ;  arid  the  fortunes 
of  our  fellow-men  have  been  treated  only  so  far  as  they  have 
been  affected  by  the  influence  of  the  great  masters  and  de- 
stroyers of  our  race.  Such  history  is,  I  will  not  say  a  worth- 
less study,  for  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  know  the  dark  side,  as 
well  as  the  bright  side,  of  our  condition.  But  it  is  a  melan- 
choly study,  which  fills  the  bosom  of  the  philanthropist  and 
the  friend  of  liberty  with  sorrow. 

But  the  history  of  Liberty, — the  history  of  men  strug- 
gling to  be  free,  —  the  history  of  men  who  have  acquired, 
and  are  exercising  their  freedom,  —  the  history  of  those  great 
movements  in  the  world,  by  which  liberty  has  been  estab- 
lished and  perpetuated,  forms  a  subject  which  we  cannot  con- 
template too  closely.  This  is  the  real  history  of  man, — of 
the  human  family,  —  of  rational,  immortal  beings. 

This  theme  is  one  ;  —  the  free  of  all  climes  and  nations  are 
themselves  a  people.  Their  annals  are  the  history  of  free- 

*  Oration  delivered  at  Charlestown,  on  the  4th  of  July,  1828. 
(150) 


THE    HISTORY    OP    LIBERTY.  151 

dom.  Those  who  fell  victims  to  their  principles,  in  the  civil 
convulsions  of  the  short-lived  republics  of  Greece,  or  who 
sunk  beneath  the  power  of  her  invading  foes  ;  those  who  shed 
their  blood  for  liberty  amidst  the  ruins  of  the  Roman  repub- 
lic ;  the  victims  of  Austrian  tyranny  in  Switzerland,  and  of 
Spanish  tyranny  in  the  Netherlands  ;  the  solitary  champions, 
or  the  united  bands  of  high-minded  and  patriotic  men,  who 
have,  in  any  region  or  age,  struggled  and  suffered  in  this  great 
cause,  belong  to  that  PEOPLE  OF  THE  FREE,  whose  fortunes  and 
progress  are  the  most  noble  theme  which  man  can  contemplate. 

The  theme  belongs  to  us.  We  inhabit  a  country  which 
has  been  signalized  in  the  great  history  of  freedom.  We  live 
under  forms  of  government  more  favorable  to  its  diffusion 
than  any  which  the  world  has  elsewhere  known.  A  succes- 
sion of  incidents,  of  rare  curiosity,  and  almost  mysterious 
connection,  has  marked  out  America  as  a  great  theatre  of  po- 
litical reform.  Many  circumstances  stand  recorded  in  our 
annals,  connected  with  the  assertion  of  human  rights,  which, 
were  we  not  familiar  with  them,  would  fill  even  our  own 
minds  with  amazement. 

The  theme  belongs  to  the  day.  We  celebrate  the  return 
of  the  day  on  which  our  separate  national  existence  was  de- 
clared ;  the  day  when  the  momentous  experiment  was  com- 
menced, by  which  the  world,  and  posterity,  and  we  ourselves 
were  to  be  taught,  how  far  a  nation  of  men  can  be  trusted 
with  self-government  —  how  far  life,  and  liberty,  and  prop- 
erty are  safe,  and  the  progress  of  social  improvement  is  secure, 
under  the  influence  of  laws  made  by  those  who  are  to  obey 
them  ;  the  day  when,  for  the  first  time  in  the  world,  a  numer- 
ous people  was  ushered  into  the  family  of  nations,  organized 
on  the  principle  of  the  political  equality  of  all  the  citizens. 

Let  us  then,  fellow-citizens,  devote  the  time  which  has 
been  set  apart  for  this  portion  of  the  duties  of  the  day,  to  a 
hasty  review  of  the  history  of  liberty  ;  especially  to  a  con- 
templation of  some  of  those  astonishing  incidents  which 
preceded,  accompanied,  or  have  followed  the  settlement  of 
America,  and  the  establishment  of  our  constitutions ;  and 
which  plainly  indicate  a  general  tendency  and  cooperation  of 


152  THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 

things  towards  the  erection,  in  this  country,  of  the  great  mon- 
itorial school  of  political  freedom. 

We  hear  much  at  school  of  the  liberty  of  Greece  and 
Rome — a  great  and  complicated  subject,  which  this  is  not 
the  occasion  to  attempt  to  disentangle.  True  it  is  that  we 
find,  in  the  annals  of  both  these  •  nations,  bright  examples  of 
public  virtue,  —  the  record  of  faithful  friends  of  their  coun- 
try,—  of  strenuous  foes  of  oppression  at  home  or  abroad, — - 
and  admirable  precedents  of  popular  strength.  But  we 
nowhere  find  in  them  the  account  of  a  populous  and  exten- 
sive region,  blessed  with  institutions  securing  the  enjoyment 
and  transmission  of  regulated  liberty.  In  freedom,  as  in 
most  other  things,  the  ancient  nations,  while  they  made 
surprisingly  near  approaches  to  the  truthj  yet,  for  want  of 
some  one  great  and  essential  principle  or  instrument,  came 
utterly  short  of  it  in  practice.  They  had  profound  and  ele- 
gant scholars ;  but  for  want  of  the  art  of  printing,  they  could 
not  send  information  out  among  the  people,  where  alone  it  is 
of  great  use  in  reference  to  human  happiness.  Some  of 
them  ventured  boldly  to  sea,  and  possessed  an  aptitude  for  for- 
eign commerce ;  yet  for  want  of  the  mariner's  compass,  they 
could  not  navigate  distant  oceans,  but  crept  for  ages  along  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  In  respect  to  freedom,  they 
established  popular  governments  in  single  cities  ;  but  for  want 
of  the  representative  principle,  they  could  not  extend  these 
institutions  over  a  large  and  populous  country.  .  But  as  a 
large  and  populous  country,  generally  speaking,  can  alone 
possess  strength  enough  for  self-defence,  this  want  was  fatal. 
The  freest  of  their  cities  accordingly  fell  a  prey,  sooner  or 
later,  either  to  a  foreign  invader  or  to  domestic  traitors. 

In  this  way,  liberty  made  no  firm  progress  in  the  ancient 
states.  It  was  a  speculation  of  the  philosopher,  and  an 
experiment  of  the  patriot ;  but  not  an  established  state  of 
society.  The  patriots  of  Greece  and  Rome  had  indeed  suc- 
ceeded in  enlightening  the  public  mind  on  one  of  the  cardinal 
points  of  freedom  —  the  necessity  of  an  elected  executive. 
The  name  and  the  office  of  a  king  were  long  esteemed  .not 
only  something  to  be  rejected,  but  something  rude  and  unciv- 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY.  153 

ilized,  belonging  to  savage  nations,  ignorant  of  the  rights  of 
man,  as  understood  in  cultivated  states.  The  word  tyrant, 
which  originally  meant  no  more  than  monarch,  soon  became 
with  the  Greeks  synonymous  with  oppressor  and  despot,  as 
it  has  continued  ever  since.  When  the  first  Cassar  made  his 
encroachments  on  the  liberties  of  Rome,  the  patriots  even  of 
that  age  boasted  that  they  had 

"  heard  their  fathers  say, 


There  was  a  Brutus  once,  that  would  have  brooked 
The  eternal  devil,  to  keep  his  state  in  Rome, 
As  easily  as  a  king." 

So  deeply  rooted  was  this  horror  of  the  very  name  of  king 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Romans,  that  under  their  worst  tyrants, 
and  in  the  darkest  days,  the  forms  of  the  republic  were  pre- 
served. There  was  no  name,  under  Nero  and  Caligula,  for  the 
office  of  monarch.  The  individual  who  filled  the  office  was 
called  Caesar  and  Augustus,  after  the  first  and  second  of  the 
line.  The  word  emperor  (imperator)  implied  no  more  than 
general.  The  offices  of  consul  and  tribune  were  kept  up ; 
although,  if  the  choice  did  not  fall,  as  it  frequently  did,  on 
the  emperor,  it  was  conferred  on  his  favorite  general,  and 
sometimes  on  his  favorite  horse.  The  senate  continued  to 
meet,  and  affected  to  deliberate;  and  in  short,  the  empire 
began  and  continued  a  pure  military  despotism,  ingrafted,  by 
a  sort  of  permanent  usurpation,  on  the  forms  and  names  of  the 
ancient  republic.  The  spirit  indeed  of  liberty  had  long  since 
ceased  to  animate  these  ancient  forms ;  and  when  the  barba- 
rous tribes  of  Central  Asia  and  Northern  Europe  burst  into  the 
Roman  empire,  they  swept  away  the  poor  remnant  of  these 
forms,  and  established  upon  their  ruins  the  system  of  feudal 
monarchy,  from  which  all  the  modern  kingdoms  are  descend- 
ed. Efforts  were  made,  in  the  middle  ages,  by  the  petty 
republics  of  Italy,  to  regain  the  political  rights,  which  a  long 
prescription  had  wrested  from  them.  But  the  remedy  of 
bloody  civil  wars  between  neighboring  cities,  was  plainly 
more  disastrous  than  the  disease  of  subjection.  The  strug- 
gles of  freedom,  in  these  little  states,  resulted  much  as  they 
VOL.  i.  20 


154  THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 

had  done  in  Greece ;  exhibiting  brilliant  -examples  of  indi- 
vidual character,  and  short  intervals  of  public  prosperity,  but 
no  permanent  progress  in  the  organization  of  liberal  govern- 
ments. 

At  length,  a  new  era  seemed  to  begin.  The  art  of  printing 
was  invented.  The  capture  of  Constantinople,  by  the  Turks, 
drove  the  learned  Greeks  of  that  city  into  Italy,  and  letters 
revived.  A  general  agitation  of  public  sentiment,  in  various 
parts  of  Europe,  ended  in  the  religious  reformation.  A  spirit 
of  adventure  had  been  awakened  in  the  maritime  nations, 
and  projects  of  remote  discovery  were  started ;  and  the  signs 
of  the  times  seemed  to  augur  a  great  political  regeneration. 
But,  as  if  to  blast  this  hope  in  its  bud ;  as  if  to  counterbal- 
ance at  once  the  operation  of  these  springs  of  improvement ; 
as  if  to  secure  the  permanence  of  the  arbitrary  institutions 
which  existed  in  every  part  of  the  continent,  at  the  moment 
when  it  was  most  threatened ;  the  last  blow,  at  the  same 
time,  was  given  to  the  remaining  power  of  the  great  barons 
—  the  sole  check  on  the  despotism  of  the  monarch  which  the 
feudal  system  provided ;  and  a  new  institution  was  firmly  estab- 
lished in  Europe,  prompt,  efficient,  and  terrible  in  its  operation, 
beyond  any  thing  which  the  modern  world  had  seen,  —  I 
mean  the  system  of  standing  armies;  —  in  other  words,  a 
military  force,  organized  and  paid  to  support  the  king  on  his 
throne,  and  retain  the  people  in  their  subjection. 

From  this  moment,  the  fate  of  freedom  in  Europe  was 
sealed.  Something  might  be  hoped  from  the  amelioration 
of  manners,  in  softening  down  the  more  barbarous  parts  of 
political  despotism ;  but  nothing  was  to  be  expected  in  the 
form  of  liberal  institutions,  founded  on  principle. 

The  ancient  and  the  modern  forms  of  political  servitude 
were  thus  combined.  The  Roman  emperors,  as  I  have  hinted, 
maintained  themselves  simply  by  military  force,  in  nominal 
accordance  with  the  forms  of  the  republic.  Their  power  (to 
speak  in  modern  terms)  was  no  part  of  the  constitution.  The 
feudal  sovereigns  possessed  a  constitutional  precedence  in  the 
state,  which,  after  the  diffusion  of  Christianity,  they  claimed 
by  the  grace  of  God ;  but  their  power,  in  point  of  fact,  was 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY.  155 

circumscribed  by  that  of  their  brother  barons.  With  the  firm 
establishment  of  standing  armies  was  consummated  a  system 
of  avowed  despotism,  paralyzing  all  expression  of  the  popular 
will,  existing  by  divine  right,  and  unbalanced  by  any  effec- 
tual check  in  the  state.  It  needs  but  a  glance  at  the  state  of 
Europe,  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  to  see, 
that,  notwithstanding  the  revival  and  diffusion  of  letters,  the 
progress  of  the  reformation,  and  the  improvement  of  manners, 
the  tone  of  the  people,  in  the  most  enlightened  countries,  was 
more  abject  than  it  had  been  since  the  days  of  the  Csesars. 
The  state  of  England  certainly  compared  favorably  with  that 
of  any  other  part  of  Europe  ;  but  who  can  patiently  listen  to 
the  language  with  which  Henry  VIII.  chides,  and  Elizabeth 
scolds,  the  lords  and  commons  of  the  Parliament  of  Great 
Britain  ? 

All  hope  of  liberty  then  seemed  lost ;  in  Europe,  all  hope 
was  lost.  A  disastrous  turn  had  been  given  to  the  general 
movement  of  things  ;  and  in  the  disclosure  of  the  fatal  secret 
of  standing  armies,  the  future  political  servitude  of  man  was 
apparently  decided. 

But  a  change  is  destined  to  come  over  the  face  of  things, 
as  romantic  in  its  origin  as  it  is  wonderful  in  its  progress. 
All  is  not  lost ;  on  the  contrary,  all  is  saved,  at  the  moment 
when  all  seemed  involved  in  ruin.  Let  me  just  allude  to  the 
incidents  connected  with  this  change,  as  they  have  lately 
been  described  by  an  accomplished  countryman,  now  beyond 
the  sea.* 

About  half  a  league  from  the  little  seaport  of  Palos,  in  the 
province  of  Andalusia,  in  Spain,  stands  a  convent  dedicated 
to  St  Mary.  Some  time  in  the  year  1486,  a  poor  wayfaring 
stranger,  accompanied  by  a  small  boy,  makes  his  appearance 
on  foot  at  the  gate  of  this  convent,  and  begs  of  the  porter  a 
little  bread  and  water  for  his  child.  This  friendless  stranger 
is  COLUMBUS.  Brought  up  in  the  hardy  pursuit  of  a  mariner,  — 
occasionally  serving  in  the  fleets  of  his  native  country,  — 
with  the  burden  of  fifty  years  upon  his  frame,  the  unprotected 

*  Irving's  Life  of  Columbus. 


156  ^.HE    HISTORY    OF    LIBEKIY. 

foreigner  makes  his  suit  to  the  sovereigns  of  Portugal  and 
Spain.  He  tells  them  that  the  broad,  flat  earth  on  which  we 
tread  is  round ;  and  he  proposes,  with  what  seems  a  sacri- 
legious hand,  to  lift  the  veil  which  had  hung,  from  the  creation 
of  the  world,  over  the  bounds  of  the  ocean.  He  promises,  by  a 
western  course,  to  reach  the  eastern  shores  of  Asia  —  the  re- 
gion of  gold,  and  diamonds,  and  spices ;  to  extend  the  sover- 
eignty of  Christian  kings  over  realms  and  nations  hitherto  un- 
approached  and  unknown ;  and,  ultimately,  to  perform  a  new 
crusade  to  the  Holy  Land,  and  ransom  the  sepulchre  of  our 
Savior  with  the  new-found  gold  of  the  East. 

Who  shall  believe  the  chimerical  pretension  ?  The  learned 
men  examine  it,  and  pronounce  it  futile.  The  royal  pilots 
have  ascertained,  by  their  own  experience,  that  it  is  groundless. 
The  priesthood  have  considered  it,  and  have  pronounced  that 
sentence,  so  terrific  where  the  Inquisition  reigns,  that  it  is  a 
wicked  heresy.  The  common  sense  and  popular  feeling  of 
men  have  been  kindled  into  disdain  and  indignation  towards 
a  project,  which,  by  a  strange  new  chimera,  represented  one 
half  of  mankind  walking  with  their  feet  towards  the  other 
half. 

Such  is  the  reception  which  his  proposal  meets.  For  a 
long  time,  the  great  cause  of  humanity,  depending  on  the 
discovery  of  this  fair  continent,  is  involved  in  the  fortitude, 
perseverance,  and  spirit  of  the  solitary  stranger,  already  past 
the  time  of  life  when  the  pulse  of  adventure  beats  full  and 
high.  If,  sinking  beneath  the  indifference  of  the  great,  the 
sneers  of  the  wise,  the  enmity  of  the  mass,  and  the  persecu- 
tion of  a  host  of  adversaries,  high  and  low,  he  give  up  the 
thankless  pursuit  of  his  noble  vision,  what  a  hope  for  man- 
kind is  blasted  !  But  he  does  not  sink.  He  shakes  off  his 
enemies,  as  the  lion  shakes  the  dew-drops  from  his  mane. 
That  consciousness  of  motive  and  of  strength,  which  always 
supports  the  man  who  is  worthy  to  be  supported,  sustains  him 
in  his  hour  of  trial ;  and  at  length,  after  years  of  expectation, 
importunity,  and  hope  deferred,  he  launches  forth  upon  the 
ur  known  deep,  to  discover  a  new  world,  under  the  patronage 
of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY.  157 

The  patronage  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  !  —  Let  us  dwell 
for  a  moment  on  the  auspices  under  which  our  country  was 
discovered.  The  patronage  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella !  Yes, 
doubtless  they  have  fitted  out  a  convoy  worthy  the  noble 
temper  of  the  man  and  the  grandeur  of  his  project.  Con- 
vinced at  length  that  it  is  no  day-dream  of  a  heated  visionary, 
the  fortunate  sovereigns  of  Castile  and  Aragon,  returning 
from  their  triumph  over  the  last  of  the  Moors,  and  putting  a 
victorious  close  to  a  war  of  seven  centuries'  duration,  have  no 
doubt  prepared  an  expedition  of  well-appointed  magnificence 
to  go  out  upon  this  splendid  search  for  other  worlds.  They 
have  made  ready,  no  doubt,  their  proudest  galleon  to  waft 
the  heroic  adventurer  upon  his  path  of  glory,  with  a  whole 
armada  of  kindred  spirits  to  accompany  him. 

Alas !  from  his  ancient  resort  of  Palos,  —  which  he  first 
visitod  as  a  mendicant,  —  in  three  frail  barks,  of  which  two 
were  without  decks,  the  great  discoverer  of  America  sails  forth 
on  the  first  voyage  across  the  unexplored  ocean  !  Such  is  the 
patronage  of  kings.  A  few  years  pass  by  ;  he  discovers  a 
new  hemisphere  ;  the  wildest  of  his  visions  fade  into  insig- 
nificance before  the  reality  of  their  fulfilment ;  he  finds  a  new 
world  for  Castile  and  Leon,  and  comes  back  to  Spain  loaded 
with  chains.  Republics,  it  is  said,  are  ungrateful ;  —  such 
are  the  rewards  of  monarchies  ! 

With  this  humble  instrumentality  did  it  please  Providence 
to  prepare  the  theatre  for  those  events  by  which  a  new  dis- 
pensation of  liberty  was  to  be  communicated  to  man.  But 
much  is  yet  to  transpire  before  even  the  commencement  can 
be  made  in  the  establishment  of  those  institutions  by  which 
this  great  advance  in  human  affairs  was  to  be  effected.  The 
discovery  of  America  had  taken  place  under  the  auspices  of 
the  government  most  disposed  for  maritime  adventure,  and 
best  enabled  to  extend  a  helping  arm,  such  as  it  was,  to  the 
enterprise  of  the  great  discoverer.  But  it  was  not  from  the 
same  quarter  that  the  elements  of  liberty  could  be  introduced 
into  the  new  world.  Causes,  upon  which  I  need  not  dwell, 
made  it  impossible  that  the  great  political  reform  should  go 
forth  from  Spain.  For  this  object,  a  new  train  of  incidents 
was  preparing  in  another  quarter. 


158  THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 

The  only  real  advances  which  modern  Europe  had  made  in 
freedom,  had  been  made  in  England.  The  cause  of  consti- 
tutional liberty  in  that  country  was  persecuted,  was  subdued ; 
but  not  annihilated,  nor  trampled  out  of  being.  From  the 
choicest  of  its  suffering  champions  were  collected  the  brave 
band  of  emigrants  who  first  went  out  on  the  second,  the 
more  precious  voyage  of  discovery  —  the  discovery  of  a 
land  where  liberty  and  its  consequent  blessings  might  be 
established. 

A  late  English  writer  *  has  permitted  himself  to  say,  that 
the  original  establishment  of  the  United  States,  and  that  of 
the  colony  of  Botany  Bay,  were  pretty  nearly  modelled  on 
the  same  plan.  The  meaning  of  this  slanderous  insinuation 
is,  that  the  United  States  were  settled  by  deported  convicts, 
in  like  manner  as  New  South  Wales  has  been  settled  by 
transported  felons.  It  is  doubtless  true  that,  at  one  period, 
the  English  government  was  in  the  habit  of  condemning  to 
hard  labor,  as  servants  in  the  colonies,  a  portion  of  those  who 
had  received  the  sentence  of  the  law.  If  this  practice  makes 
it  proper  to  compare  America  with  Botany  Bay,  the  same 
comparison  might  be  made  of  England  herself,  before  the 
practice  of  transportation  began,  and  even  now ;  inasmuch 
as  a  considerable  number  of  convicts  are  at  all  times  retained 
at  home.  In  one  sense,  indeed,  we  might  doubt  whether  the 
allegation  were  more  of  a  reproach  or  a  compliment.  During 
the  time  that  the  colonization  of  America  was  going  on  the 
most  rapidly,  some  of  the  best  citizens  of  England,  if  it  be  any 
part  of  good  citizenship  to  resist  oppression,  were  immured 
in  her  prisons  of  state  or  lying  at  the  mercy  of  the  law.f 

Such  were  some  of  the  convicts  by  whom  America  was 
settled  —  men  convicted  of  fearing  God  more  than  they  feared 
man ;  of  sacrificing  property,  ease,  and  all  the  comforts  of 
life,  to  a  sense  of  duty  and  the  dictates  of  conscience ;  men 
convicted  of  pure  lives,  brave  hearts,  and  simple  manners. 
The  enterprise  was  led  by  RALEIGH,  the  chivalrous  convict, 


*  London  Quarterly  Review  for  January,  1828. 

t  See  Mr  Walsh's  United  States  and  Great  Britain,  Sect  II 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY.  159 

who  unfortunately  believed  that  his  royal  master  had  the 
heart  of  a  man,  and  would  not  let  a  sentence  of  death,  which 
had  slumbered  for  sixteen  years,  revive  and  take  effect  after 
so  long  an  interval  of  employment  and  favor.  But  nullum 
tempus  occurrit  regi.  The  felons  who  followed  next  were 
the  heroic  and  long-suffering  church  of  ROBINSON,  at  Leyden, 
—  CARVER,  BREWSTER,  BRADFORD,  WINSLOW,  and  their  pious 
associates,  convicted  of  worshipping  God  according  to  the 
dictates  of  their  consciences,  and  of  giving  up  all,  —  country, 
property,  and  the  tombs  of  their  fathers,  —  that  they  might 
do  it  unmolested.  Not  content  with  having  driven  the  Puri- 
tans from  her  soil,  England  next  enacted  or  put  in  force  the 
oppressive  laws  which  colonized  Maryland  with  Catholics, 
and  Pennsylvania  with  Quakers.  Nor  was  it  long  before  the 
American  plantations  were  recruited  by  the  Germans,  con- 
victed of  inhabiting  the  Palatinate,  when  the  merciless  armies 
of  Louis  XIV.  were  turned  into  that  devoted  region  ;  and  by 
the  Huguenots,  convicted  of  holding  what  they  deemed  the 
simple  truth  of  Christianity,  when  it  pleased  the  mistress  of 
Louis  XIV.  to  be  very  zealous  for  the  Catholic  faith.  These 
were  followed,  in  the  next  century,  by  the  Highlanders,  con- 
victed of  the  enormous  crime,  under  a  monarchical  govern- 
ment, of  loyalty  to  their  hereditary  prince,  on  the  plains  of 
Culloden  ;  and  the  Irish,  convicted  of  supporting  the  rights 
of  their  country  against  what  they  deemed  an  oppressive 
external  power.  Such  are  the  convicts  by  whom  America 
was  settled. 

In  this  way,  a  fair  representation  of  whatsoever  was  most 
valuable  in  European  character  —  the  resolute  industry  of 
one  nation,  the  inventive  skill  and  curious  arts  of  another, 
the  courage,  conscience,  principle,  self-denial  of  all  —  was 
winnowed  out,  by  the  policy  of  the  prevailing  governments, 
as  a  precious  seed  wherewith  to  plant  the  American  soil. 
By  this  singular  coincidence  of  events,  our  country  was  con- 
stituted the  great  asylum  of  suffering  virtue  and  oppressed 
humanity.  It  could  now  no  longer  be  said, — as  it  was  of 
the  Roman  empire,  —  that  mankind  was  shut  up,  as  if  in  3 
vast  prison  house,  from  whence  there  was  no  escape.  The 


160  THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 

political  and  ecclesiastical  oppressors  of  the  world  allowed 
their  persecution  to  find  a  limit  at  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic 
They  scarce  ever  attempted  to  pursue  their  victims  beyond 
its  protecting  waters.  It  is  plain  that  in  this  way  alone,  the 
design  of  Providence  could  be  accomplished,  which  provided 
for  one  catholic  school  of  freedom  in  the  western  hemi- 
sphere. For  it  must  not  be  a  freedom  of  too  sectional  and 
peculiar  a  cast.  On  the  stock  of  the  English  civilization,  as 
the  general  basis,  were  to  be  ingrafted  the  languages,  the 
arts,  and  the  tastes  of  the  other  civilized  nations.  A  tie  of 
consanguinity  must  connect  the  members  of  every  family  of 
Europe  with  some  portion  of  our  happy  land ;  so  that  in  all 
their  trials  and  disasters,  they  may  look  safely  beyond  the 
ocean  for  a  refuge.  The  victims  of  power,  of  intolerance, 
of  war,  of  disaster,  in  every  other  part  of  the  world,  must 
feel  that  they  may  find  a  kindred  home  within  our  limits. 
Kings,  whom  the  perilous  convulsions  of  the  day  have  shaken 
from  their  thrones,  must  find  a  safe  retreat ;  and  the  needy 
emigrant  must  at  least  not  fail  of  his  bread  and  water,  were 
it  only  for  the  sake  of  the  great  discoverer,  who  was  himself 
obliged  to  beg  them.  On  this  corner-stone  the  temple  of  our 
freedom  was  laid  from  the  first,  — 

"  For  here  the  exile  met  from  every  clime, 
And  spoke  in  friendship  every  distant  tongue ; 
Men,  from  the  blood  of  warring  Europe  sprung, 
Were  here  divided  by  the  running  brook." 

This  peculiarity  of  our  population,  which  some  have 
thought  a  misfortune,  is  in  reality  one  of  the  happiest  circum- 
stances attending  the  settlement  of  the  country.  It  assures 
the  exile  from  every  part  of  Europe  a  kind  reception  from 
men  of  his  own  tongue  and  race.  Had  we  been  the  unmixed 
descendants  of  any  one  nation  of  Europe,  we  should  have 
retained  a  moral  and  intellectual  dependence  on  that  nation, 
even  after  the  dissolution  of  our  political  connection  had  taken 
place.  It  was  sufficient  for  the  great  purposes  in  view,  that 
the  earliest  settlements  were  made  by  men  who  had  fought 
the  battles  of  liberty  in  England,  and  who  brought  with  them 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY.  161 

the  rudiments  of  constitutional  freedom  to  a  region  where  no 
deep-rooted  prescriptions  would  prevent  their  development. 
Instead  of  marring  the  symmetry  of  our  social  system,  it  is 
one  of  its  most  attractive  and  beautiful  peculiarities,  that,  with 
the  prominent  qualities  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  character,  inher- 
ited from  our  English  fathers,  we  have  an  admixture  of  almost 
every  thing  that  is  valuable  in  the  character  of  most  of  the 
other  states  of  Europe. 

Such  was  the  first  preparation  for  the  great  political  reform, 
of  which  America  was  to  be  the  theatre.  The  colonies  of 
England — of  a  country  where  the  supremacy  of  laws  and 
the  constitution  is  best  recognized  —  the  North  American 
colonies  —  were  protected,  from  the  first,  against  the  intro- 
duction of  the  unmitigated  despotism  which  prevailed  in  the 
Spanish  settlements ;  the  continuance  of  which,  down  to 
the  moment  of  their  late  revolt,  prevented  the  education  of 
those  provinces  in  the  exercise  of  political  rights ;  and,  in 
that  way,  has  thrown  them  into  the  revolution  inexperienced 
and  unprepared  —  victims,  some  of  them,  to  a  domestic  anar- 
chy scarcely  less  grievous  than  the  foreign  yoke  they  have 
thrown  off.  While,  however,  the  settlers  of  America  brought 
with  them  the  principles  and  feelings,  the  political  habits  and 
temper,  which  defied  the  encroachments  of  arbitrary  power, 
and  made  it  necessary,  when  they  were  to  be  oppressed,  that 
they  should  be  oppressed  under  the  forms  of  law,  it  was  an 
unavoidable  consequence  of  the  state  of  things  —  a  result, 
perhaps,  of  the  very  nature  of  a  colonial  government  —  that 
they  should  be  thrown  into  a  position  of  controversy  with 
the  mother  country,  and  thus  become  familiar  with  the 
whole  energetic  doctrine  and  discipline  of  resistance.  This 
formed  and  hardened  the  temper  of  the  colonists,  and  trained 
them  up  to  a  spirit  meet  for  the  struggles  of  separation. 

On  the  other  hand,  by  what  I  had  almost  called  an  acci- 
dental circumstance,  but  one  which  ought  rather  to  be  con- 
sidered as  a  leading  incident  in  the  great  train  of  events 
connected  with  the  establishment  of  constitutional  freedom 
in  this  country,  it  came  to  pass  that  nearly  all  the  colonies 
(founded  as  they  were  on  the  charters  granted  to  corporate 

VOL.   I.  21 


162  THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 

institutions  in  England,  which  had  for  their  object  the  pursuit 
of  the  branches  of  industry  and  trade  pertinent  to  a  new 
plantation)  adopted  a  regular  representative  system,  by  which, 
as  in  ordinary  civil  corporations,  the  affairs  of  the  community 
are  decided  by  the  will  and  voices  of  its  members,  or  those 
authorized  by  them.  It  was  no  device  of  the  parent  govern- 
ment which  gave  us  our  colonial  assemblies.  It  was  no 
refinement  of  philosophical  statesmen  to  which  we  are  in- 
debted for  our  republican  institutions  of  government.  They 
grew  up,  as  it  were,  by  accident,  on  the  simple  foundation  I 
have  named.  "  A  house  of  burgesses,"  says  Hutchinson, 
1  broke  out  in  Virginia,  in  1620  ;  "  and,  "  although  there  was 
no  color  for  it  in  the  charter  of  Massachusetts,  a  house  of 
deputies  appeared  suddenly  in  1634."  "  Lord  Say,"  observes 
the  same  historian,  "  tempted  the  principal  men  of  Massa- 
chusetts to  make  themselves  and  their  heirs  nobles  and  abso- 
lute governors  of  a  new  colony  ;  but,  under  this  plan,  they 
could  find  no  people  to  follow  them." 

At  this  early  period,  and  in  this  simple,  unpretending  man- 
ner, was  introduced  to  the  world  that  greatest  discovery  in 
political  science,  or  political  practice,  a  representative  republi- 
can system.  "  The  discovery  of  the  system  of  the  represen- 
tative republic,"  says  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  "is  one  of  the 
greatest  political  events  that  ever  occurred."  But  it  is  not 
one  of  the  greatest,  it  is  the  very  greatest ;  and,  combined 
with  another  principle,  to  which  I  shall  presently  advert,  and 
which  is  also  the  invention  of  the  United  States,  it  marks  an 
era  in  human  affairs  —  a  discovery  in  the  great  science  of 
social  life,  compared  with  which  every  thing  else,  that  termi- 
nates in  the  temporal  interests  of  man,  sinks  into  insignifi- 
cance. 

Thus,  then,  was  the  foundation  laid,  and  thus  was  the 
preparation  commenced,  of  the  grand  political  regeneration. 
For  about  a  century  and  a  half  this  preparation  was  carried 
on.  Without  any  of  the  temptations  which  drew  the  Spanish 
adventurers  to  Mexico  and  Peru,  the  colonies  throve  almost 
beyond  example,  and  in  the  face  of  neglect,  contempt,  and 
persecution.  Their  numbers,  in  the  substantial  middle  classes 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY.  163 

of  life,  increased  with  singular  rapidity :  no  materials  out  of 
which  an  aristocracy  could  be  formed ;  no  great  eleemosy- 
nary establishments  to  cause  an  influx  of  paupers.  There 
was  nothing  but  the  rewards  of  labor  and  the  hope  of 
freedom. 

But  at  length  this  hope,  never  adequately  satisfied,  began 
to  turn  into  doubt  and  despair.  The  colonies  had  become 
too  important  to  be  overlooked ;  their  government  was  a 
prerogative  too  important  to  be  left  in  their  own  hands ;  and 
the  legislation  of  the  mother  country  decidedly  assumed  a 
form  which  announced  to  the  patriots  that  the  hour  at  length 
had  come  when  the  chains  of  the  great  discoverer  were  to 
be  avenged,  the  sufferings  of  the  first  settlers  to  be  com- 
pensated, and  the  long  deferred  hopes  of  humanity  to  be 
fulfilled. 

You  need  not,  friends  and  fellow-citizens,  that  I  should 
dwell  upon  the  incidents  of  the  last  great  act  in  the  colonial 
drama.  This  very  place  was  the  scene  of  some  of  the 
earliest  and  the  most  memorable  of  them ;  their  recollection 
i-:  a  part  of  your  inheritance  of  honor.  In  the  early  councils 
and  first  struggles  of  the  great  revolutionary  enterprise,  the 
citizens  of  this  place  were  among  the  most  prominent.  The 
measures  of  resistance  which  were  projected  by  the  patriots 
of  Charlestown  were  opposed  but  by  one  individual.  An 
active  cooperation  existed  between  the  political  leaders  in 
Boston  and  this  place.  The  beacon  light  which  was  kindled 
in  the  towers  of  Christ  Church,  in  Boston,  on  the  night  of 
the  eighteenth  of  April,  1775,  was  answered  from  the  steeple 
of  the  church  in  which  we  are  now  assembled.  The  intrepid 
messenger  who  was  sent  forward  to  convey  to  HANCOCK  and 
ADAMS  the  intelligence  of  the  approach  of  the  British  troops, 
was  furnished  with  a  horse,  for  his  eventful  errand,  by  a 
respected  citizen  of  this  place.  At  the  close  of  the  following 
momentous  day,  the  British  forces  —  the  remnant  of  its  dis- 
asters—  found  refuge,  under  the  shades  of  night,  upon  the 
heights  of  Charlestown ;  and  there,  on  the  ever-memorable 
seventeenth  of  June,  that  great  and  costly  sacrifice  in  the 
cause  of  freedom  was  consummated  with  fire  and  blood 


164  THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 

Your  hill-tops  were  strewed  with  the  illustrious  dead  ;  your 
nomes  were  wrapped  in  flames ;  the  fair  fruits  of  a  cen- 
tury and  a  half  of  civilized  culture  were  reduced  to  a  heap 
of  bloody  ashes,  and  two  thousand  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren turned  houseless  upon  the  world.  With  the  exception 
of  the  ravages  of  the  nineteenth  of  April,  the  chalice  of 
woe  and  desolation  was  in  this  manner  first  presented  to  the 
'c'ps  of  the  citizens  of  Charlestown.  Thus  devoted,  as  it 
were,  to  the  cause,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  spirit  of  the  rev- 
olution should  have  taken  possession  of  their  bosoms,  and 
been  transmitted  to  their  children.  The  American,  who,  in 
any  part  of  the  Union,  could  forget  the  scenes  and  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  revolution,  would  thereby  prove  himself  unwor- 
thy of  the  blessings  which  he  enjoys;  but  the  citizen  of 
Charlestown,  who  could  be  cold  on  this  momentous  theme, 
must  hear  a  voice  of  reproach  from  the  walls,  which  were 
reared  on  the  ashes  of  the  seventeenth  of  June  —  a  piercing 
cry  from  the  very  sods  of  yonder  hill. 

The  revolution  was  at  length  accomplished.  The  political 
separation  of  the  country  from  Great  Britain  was  effected  ; 
and  it  now  remained  to  organize  the  liberty  which  had  been 
reaped  on  bloody  fields  —  to  establish,  in  the  place  of  the 
government  whose  yoke  had  been  thrown  off,  a  government 
at  home,  which  should  fulfil  the  great  design  of  the  revolu- 
tion, and  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  friends  of  liberty  at 
large.  What  manifold  perils  awaited  the  step !  The  danger 
was  great  that  too  little  or  too  much  would  be  done.  Smart- 
ing under  the  oppressions  of  a  distant  government,  whose 
spirit  was  alien  to  their  feelings,  there  was  great  danger  that 
the  colonies,  in  the  act  of  declaring  themselves  sovereign  and 
independent  states,  would  push  to  an  extreme  the  prerogative 
of  their  separate  independence,  and  refuse  to  admit  any 
authority  beyond  the  limits  of  each  particular  common- 
wealth. On  the  other  hand,  achieving  their  independence 
beneath  the  banners  of  the  continental  army,  ascribing,  and 
justly,  a  large  portion  of  their  success  to  the  personal  quali- 
ties of  the  beloved  Father  of  his  Country,  there  was  danger 
not  less  imminent,  that  those  who  perceived  the  evils  of  the 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY.  165 

opposite  extreme,  would  be  disposed  to  confer  too  much 
strength  on  one  general  government ;  and  would,  perhaps, 
even  fancy  the  necessity  of  investing  the  hero  of  the  revo- 
lution, in  form,  with  that  sovereign  power  which  his  personal 
ascendency  gave  him  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen.  Such 
and  so  critical  was  the  alternative  which  the  organization  of 
the  new  government  presented,  and  on  the  successful  issue 
of  which  the  entire  benefit  of  this  great  movement  in  human 
affairs  was  to  depend. 

The  first  effort  to  solve  the  great  problem  was  made  in  the 
course  of  the  revolution,  and  was  without  success.  The  arti- 
cles of  confederation  verged  to  the  extreme  of  a  union  too 
weak  for  its  great  purposes ;  and  the  moment  the  pressure  of 
the  war  was  withdrawn,  the  inadequacy  of  this  first  project 
of  a  government  was  felt.  The  United  States  found  them- 
selves overwhelmed  with  debt,  without  the  means  of  paying 
it.  Rich  in  the  materials  of  an  extensive  commerce,  they 
found  their  ports  crowded  with  foreign  ships,  and  themselves 
without  the  power  to  raise  a  revenue.  Abounding  in  all  the 
elements  of  national  wealth,  they  wanted  resources  to  defray 
he  ordinary  expenses  of  government. 

For  a  moment,  and  to  the  hasty  observer,  this  last  eftort 
for  the  establishment  of  freedom  had  failed.  No  fruit  had 
sprung  from  this  lavish  expenditure  of  treasure  and  blood. 
We  had  changed  the  powerful  protection  of  the  mother 
country  into  a  cold  and  jealous  amity,  if  not  into  a  slumber- 
ing hostility.  The  oppressive  principles  against  which  our 
fathers  had  struggled,  were  succeeded  by  more  oppressive 
realities.  The  burden  of  the  British  navigation  act  was,  as 
operating  on  the  colonies,  removed,  but  it  was  followed  by 
the  impossibility  of  protecting  our  shipping  by  a  navigation 
law  of  our  own.  A  state  of  material  prosperity,  existing  be- 
fore the  revolution,  was  succeeded  by  universal  exhaustion ; 
and  a  high  and  indignant  tone  of  militant  patriotism,  by  uni- 
versal despondency. 

It  remained,  then,  to  give  its  last  great  effect  to  all  that  had 
been  done,  since  the  discovery  of  America,  for  the  establish- 
ment of  the  cause  of  liberty  in  the  western  hemisphere,  and. 


166  THE    HISTOEY    OF    LIBERTY. 

by  another  more  deliberate  effort,  to  organize  a  government 
by  which  not  only  the  present  evils,  under  which  the  country 
was  suffering,  should  be  remedied,  but  the  final  design  of 
Providence  should  be  fulfilled.  Such  was  the  task  which 
devolved  on  the  statesmen  who  convened  at  Philadelphia,  on 
the  second  day  of  May,  1787,  of  which  General  Washington 
was  elected  president,  and  over  whose  debates  your  towns- 
man, Mr  Gorham,  presided  for  two  or  three  months,  as  chair- 
man of  the  committee  of  the  whole,  during  the  discussion  of 
the  plan  of  the  federal  constitution. 

The  very  first  step  to  be  taken  was  one  of  pain  and  regret 
The  old  confederation  was  to  be  given  up.  What  misgivings 
and  grief  must  not  this  preliminary  sacrifice  have  occasioned 
to  the  patriotic  members  of  the  convention !  They  were 
attached,  and  with  reason,  to  its  simple  majesty.  It  was  weak 
then,  but  it  had  been  strong  enough  to  carry  the  colonies 
through  the  storms  of  the  revolution.  Some  of  the  great 
men,  who  led  up  the  forlorn  hope  of  their  country,  in  the 
hour  of  her  dearest  peril,  had  died  in  its  defence.  Could  not 
a  little  inefficiency  be  pardoned  to  a  Union  with  which  France 
had  made  an  alliance,  and  England  had  made  peace  ?  Could 
the  proposed  new  government  do  more  or  better  things  than 
this  had  done  ?  Who  could  give  assurance,  when  the  flag  of 
the  old  thirteen  was  struck,  that  the  hearts  of  the  people 
could  be  rallied  to  another  banner? 

Such  were  the  misgivings  of  some  of  the  great  men  of 
that  day  —  the  Henrys,  the  Gerrys,  and  other  eminent  anti- 
federalists,  to  whose  scruples  it  is  time  that  justice  should  be 
done.  They  were  the  sagacious  misgivings  of  wise  men,  the 
just  forebodings  of  brave  men,  who  were  determined  not  to 
defraud  posterity  of  the  blessings  for  which  they  had  all  suf- 
fered, and  for  which  some  of  them  had  fought. 

The  members  of  that  convention,  in  going  about  the  great 
work  before  them,  deliberately  laid  aside  the  means  by  which 
all  preceding  legislators  had  aimed  to  accomplish  a  like  work. 
In  founding  a  strong  and  efficient  government,  adequate  to 
the  raising  up  of  a  powerful  and  prosperous  people,  their  first 
step  was  to  reject  the  institutions  to  which  other  governments 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY.  167 

traced  their  strength  and  prosperity,  or  had,  at  least,  regarded 
as  the  necessary  conditions  of  stability  and  order.  The 
world  had  settled  down  into  the  belief  that  an  hereditary 
monarch  was  necessary  to  give  strength  to  the  executive 
power.  The  framers  of  our  constitution  provided  for  an 
elective  chief  magistrate,  chosen  every  four  years.  Every 
other  country  had  been  betrayed  into  the  admission  of  a 
distinction  of  ranks  in  society,  under  the  absurd  impression 
that  privileged  orders  are  necessary  to  the  permanence  of  the 
social  system.  The  framers  of  our  constitution  established 
every  thing  on  the  pure  natural  basis  of  a  uniform  equality 
of  the  elective  franchise,  to  be  exercised  by  all  the  citizens, 
at  fixed  and  short  intervals.  In  other  countries,  it  had  been 
thought  necessary  to  constitute  some  one  political  centre, 
towards  which  all  political  power  should  tend,  and  at  which, 
in  the  last  resort,  it  should  be  exercised.  The  framers  of  the 
constitution  devised  a  scheme  of  confederate  and  representa- 
tive sovereign  republics,  united  in  a  happy  distribution  of 
powers,  which,  reserving  to  the  separate  states  all  the  political 
functions  essential  to  local  administration  and  private  justice, 
bestowed  upon  the  general  government  those,  and  those  only, 
required  for  the  service  of  the  whole. 

Thus  was  completed  the  great  revolutionary  movement ; 
thus  was  perfected  that  mature  organization  of  a  free  system, 
destined,  as  we  trust,  to  stand  forever,  as  the  exemplar  of 
popular  government.  Thus  was  discharged  the  duty  of  our 
fathers  to  themselves,  to  the  country,  and  to  the  world. 

The  power  of  the  example  thus  set  up,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
nations,  was  instantly  and  widely  felt.  It  was  immediately 
made  visible  to  sagacious  observers  that  a  constitutional  age 
had  begun.  It  was  in  the  nature  of  things,  that,  where  the 
former  evil  existed  in  its  most  inveterate  form,  the  reaction 
should  also  be  the  most  violent.  Hence  the  dreadful  excesses 
that  marked  the  progress  of  the  French  revolution,  and,  for  a 
while,  almost  made  the  name  of  liberty  odious.  But  it  is 
not  less  in  the  nature  of  things,  that,  when  the  most  indis- 
putable and  enviable  political  blessings  stand  illustrated  before 
the  world,  —  not  merely  in  speculation  and  in  theory,  but  in 


168  THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 

living  practice  and  bright  example,  —  the  nations  of  the  earth, 
in  proportion  as  they  have  eyes  to  see,  and  ears  to  hear,  and 
hands  to  grasp,  should  insist  on  imitating  the  example 
France  clung  to  the  hope  of  constitutional  liberty  through 
thirty  years  of  appalling  tribulation,  and  now  enjoys  the 
freest  constitution  in  Europe.  Spain,  Portugal,  the  two 
Italian  kingdoms,  and  several  of  the  German  states,  have 
entered  on  the  same  path.  Their  progress  has  been  and 
must  be  various  ;  modified  by  circumstances  :  by  the  interests 
and  passions  of  governments  and  men  ;  and,  in  some  cases, 
seemingly  arrested.  But  their  march  is  as  sure  as  fate.  If 
we  believe  at  all  in  the  political  revival  of  Europe,  there  can 
be  no  really  retrograde  movement  in  this  cause  ;  and  that 
which  seems  so  in  the  revolutions  of  government,  is,  liko 
that  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  a  part  of  their  eternal  orbit. 

There  can  be  no  retreat,  for  the  great  exemplar  must  stand, 
to  convince  the  hesitating  nations,  under  every  reverse,  that 
the  reform  they  strive  at  is  real,  is  practicable,  is  within  their 
reach.  Efforts  at  reform,  by  the  power  of  action  and  reaction, 
may  fluctuate  ;  but  there  is  an  element  of  popular  strength 
abroad  in  the  world,  stronger  than  forms  and  institutions,  and 
daily  growing  in  power.  A  public  opinion  of  a  new  kind 
has  arisen  among  men  —  the  opinion  of  the  civilized  world. 
Springing  into  existence  on  the  shores  of  our  own  continent, 
it  has  grown  with  our  growth  and  strengthened  with  our 
strength  ;  till  now,  this  moral  giant,  like  that  of  the  ancient 
poet,  marches  along  the  earth  and  across  the  ocean,  but  his 
front  is  among  the  stars.  The  course  of  the  day  does  not 
weary,  nor  the  darkness  of  night  arrest  him.  He  grasps  the 
pillars  of  the  temple  where  Oppression  sits  enthroned,  not 
groping  and  benighted,  like  the  strong  man  of  old,  to  be 
crushed  himself  beneath  the  fall ;  but  trampling,  in  his 
strength,  on  the  massy  ruins. 

Under  the  influence,  I  might  almost  say  the  unaided  influ- 
ence, of  public  opinion,  formed  and  nourished  by  our  example, 
three  wonderful  revolutions  have  broken  out  in  a  generation. 
That  of  France,  not  yet  consummated,  has  left  that  country 
''which  it  found  in  a  condition  scarcely  better  than  Turkey) 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY.  169 

in  the  possession  of  the  blessings  of  a  representative  constitu- 
tional government.  Another  revolution  has  emancipated  the 
American  possessions  of  Spain,  by  an  almost  unassisted  action 
of  moral  causes.  Nothing  but  the  strong  sense  of  the  age, 
that  a  government  like  that  of  Ferdinand  ought  not  to  subsist 
over  regions  like  those  which  stretch  to  the  south  of  us,  on 
the  continent,  could  have  sufficed  to  bring  about  their  eman- 
cipation, against  all  the  obstacles,  which  the  state  of  society 
among  them  opposes  at  present,  to  regulated  liberty  and  safe 
independence.  When  an  eminent  British  statesman  (Mr  Can- 
ning) said  of  the  emancipation  of  these  states,  that  "  he  had 
called  into  existence  a  new  world  in  the  west,"  he  spoke  as 
wisely  as  the  artist  who,  having  tipped  the  forks  of  a  con- 
ductor with  silver,  should  boast  that  he  had  created  the  light- 
ning, which  it  calls  down  from  the  clouds.  But  the  greatest 
triumph  of  public  opinion  is  the  revolution  of  Greece.  The 
spontaneous  sense  of  the  friends  of  liberty,  at  home  and 
abroad.  —  without  armies,  without  navies,  without  concert, 
and  acting  only  through  the  simple  channels  of  ordinary  com- 
munication, principally  the  press,  —  has  rallied  the  govern- 
ments of  Europe  to  this  ancient  and  favored  soil  of  freedom. 
Pledged  to  remain  at  peace,  they  have  been  driven  by  the 
force  of  public  sentiment  into  the  war.  Leagued  against  the 
cause  of  revolution,  as  such,  they  have  been  compelled  to 
send  their  armies  and  navies  to  fight  the  battles  of  revolt. 
Dignifying  the  barbarous  oppressor  of  Christian  Greece  with 
the  title  of  "  ancient  and  faithful  ally,"  they  have  been  con- 
strained, by  the  outraged  feeling  of  the  civilized  world,  to 
burn  up,  in  time  of  peace,  the  navy  of  their  ally,  with  all  his 
antiquity  and  all  his  fidelity  ;  and  to  cast  the  broad  shield  of 
the  Holy  Alliance  over  a  young  and  turbulent  republic. 

This  bright  prospect  may  be  clouded  in ;  the  powers  of 
Europe,  which  have  reluctantly  taken,  may  speedily  abandon 
the  field.  Some  inglorious  composition  may  yet  save  the 
Ottoman  empire  from  dissolution,  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  liberty 
of  Greece,  and  the  power  of  Europe.  But  such  are  not  the 
indications  of  things.  The  prospect  is  fair,  that  the  political 
regeneration  which  commenced  in  the  west,  is  now  going 
VOL.  i.  22 


'70  THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 

backward  to  resuscitate  the  once  happy  and  long-dese  .u 
regions  of  the  older  world.  The  hope  is  not  now  chimerical, 
that  those  lovely  islands,  the  flower  of  the  Levant,  —  the 
shores  of  that  renowned  sea,  around  which  all  the  associa- 
tions of  antiquity  are  concentrated,  — are  again  to  be  brought 
back  to  the  sway  of  civilization  and  Christianity.  Happily, 
the  interest  of  the  great  powers  of  Europe  seems  to  beckon 
them  onward  in  the  path  of  humanity.  The  half-deserted 
coasts  of  Syria  and  Egypt,  the  fertile  but  almost  desolated 
archipelago,  the  empty  shores  of  Africa,  the  granary  of  ancient 
Rome,  seem  to  offer  themselves  as  a  ready  refuge  for  the 
crowded,  starving,  discontented  millions  of  Western  Europe. 
No  natural  nor  political  obstacle  opposes  itself  to  their 
occupation.  France  has  long  cast  a  wishful  eye  on  Egypt. 
Napoleon  derived  the  idea  of  his  expedition,  which  was  set 
down  to  the  unchastened  ambition  of  a  revolutionary  soldier, 
from  a  memoir  found  in  the  cabinet  of  Louis  XVI.  England 
has  already  laid  her  hand  —  an  arbitrary,  but  a  civilized  and 
Christian  hand  —  on  Malta ;  and  the  Ionian  Isles,  and  Cyprus, 
Rhodes,  and  Candia  must  soon  follow.  It  is  not  beyond  the 
reach  of  hope,  that  a  representative  republic  may  be  estab- 
lished in  Central  Greece  and  the  adjacent  islands.  In  this 
way,  and  with  the  example  of  what  has  here  been  done,  it  is 
not  too  much  to  anticipate,  that  many  generations  will  not 
pass,  before  the  same  benignant  influence  will  revisit  the 
awakened  East,  and  thus  fulfil,  in  the  happiest  sense,  the  vis- 
ion of  Columbus,  by  restoring  a  civilized  population  to  the 
primitive  seats  of  our  holy  faith. 

Fellow-citizens,  the  eventful  pages  in  the  volume  of  human 
lortune  are  opening  upon  us  with  sublime  rapidity  of  suc- 
cession. It  is  two  hundred  years  this  summer  since  a  few 
of  that  party  who,  in  1628,  commenced  in  Salem  the  first 
settlement  of  Massachusetts,  were  sent  by  Governor  Endecott 
to  explore  the  spot  where  we  stand.  They  found  that  one 
pioneer,  of  the  name  of  WALFORD,  had  gone  before  them,  and 
had  planted  himself  among  the  numerous  and  warlike  sav- 
ages in  this  quarter.  From  them,  the  native  lords  of  the  soil, 
these  first  hardy  adventurers  derived  their  title  to  the  lands  on 


THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERT\  171 

which  they  settled ;  and  in  some  degree,  prepared  the  way 
by  the  arts  of  civilization  and  peace,  for  the  main  body  of  the 
colonists  of  Massachusetts,  under  Governor  Winthrop,  who, 
two  years  afterwards,  by  a  coincidence  which  you  will  think 
worth  naming,  arrived  in  Mystic  River,  and  pitched  his  patri- 
archal tent  on  Ten  Hills,  upon  the  seventeenth  day  of  June, 
1630.  Massachusetts  at  that  moment  consisted  of  six  huts  at 
Salem,  and  one  at  this  place.  It  seems  but  a  span  of  tim< 
as  the  mind  ranges  over  it.  A  venerable  individual  is  living, 
at  the  seat  of  the  first  settlement,  whose  life  covers  one  half 
of  the  entire  period :  *  but  what  a  destiny  has  been  unfolded 
before  our  country  !  —  what  events  have  crowded  your  an- 
nals !  —  what  scenes  of  thrilling  interest  and  eternal  glory 
have  signalized  the  very  spot  where  we  stand ! 

In  that  unceasing  march  of  things,  which  calls  forward  the 
successive  generations  of  men  to  perform  their  part  on  the 
stage  of  life,  we  at  length  are  summoned  to  appear.  Our 
fathers  have  passed  their  hour  of  visitation ;  how  worthily, 
let  the  growth  and  prosperity  of  our  happy  land  and  the 
security  of  our  firesides  attest.  Or,  if  this  appeal  be  too 
weak  to  move  us,  let  the  eloquent  silence  of  yonder  fa- 
mous heights  —  let  the  column  which  is  there  rising  in 
simple  majesty  —  recall  their  venerable  forms,  as  they 
toiled  in  the  hasty  trenches  through  the  dreary  watches 
of  that  night  of  expectation,  heaving  up  the  sods,  where 
many  of  them  lay,  in  peace  and  in  honor,  before  the  fol- 
lowing sun  had  set.  The  turn  has  come  to  us.  The  trial 
of  adversity  was  theirs  ;  the  trial  of  prosperity  is  ours.  Let 
us  meet  it  as  men  who  know  their  duty,  and  prize  their  bless- 
ings. Our  position  is  the  most  enviable,  the  most  responsible, 
which  men  can  fill.  If  this  generation  does  its  duty,  the 
cause  of  constitutional  freedom  is  safe.  If  we  fail  —  if  we 
fail,  not  only  do  we  defraud  our  children  of  the  inheritance 
which  we  received  from  our  fathers,  but  we  blast  the  hopes 
of  the  friends  of  liberty  throughout  our  continent,  throughout 
Europe,  throughout  the  world,  to  the  end  of  time. 

*  The  late  venerable  Dr  Holyoke,  of  Salem. 


172  THE    HISTORY    OF    LIBERTY. 

History  is  not  without  her  examples  of  hard-fought  fields, 
where  the  banner  of  liberty  has  floated  triumphantly  on  the 
wildest  storm  of  battle.  She  is  without  her  examples  of  a 
people  by  whom  the  dear-bought  treasure  has  been  wisely 
employed  and  safely  handed  down.  The  eyes  of  the  world 
are  turned  for  that  example  to  us.  It  is  related  by  an  ancient 
historian,*  of  that  Brutus  who  slew  Ceesar,  that  he  threw 
himself  on  his  sword,  after  the  disastrous  battle  of  Philippi, 
with  the  bitter  exclamation,  that  he  had  followed  virtue  as  a 
substance,  but  found  it  a  name.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say, 
that  there  are,  at  this  moment,  noble  spirits  in  the  elder 
world,  who  are  anxiously  watching  the  practical  operation  of 
our  institutions,  to  learn  whether  liberty,  as  they  have  been 
told,  is  a  mockery,  a  pretence,  and  a  curse,  —  or  a  blessing, 
for  which  it  becomes  them  to  brave  the  scaffold  and  the 
cimeter. 

Let  us  then,  as  we  assemble  on  the  birthday  of  the  nation, 
as  we  gather  upon  the  green  turf,  once  wet  with  precious 
blood,  let  us  devote  ourselves  to  the  sacred  cause  of  CONSTI- 
TUTIONAL LIBERTY.  Let  us  abjure  the  interests  and  passions 
which  divide  the  great  family  of  American  freemen.  Let  the 
rage  of  party  spirit  sleep  to-day.  Let  us  resolve  that  our 
children  shall  have  cause  to  bless  the  memory  of  their  fathers, 
as  we  have  cause  to  bless  the  memory  of  ours. 

•  Dio  Cassius,  Lib.  XLVII.  in  fin. 


MONUMENT  TO  HARVARD.* 


WE  are  assembled,  fellow-students  and  fellow-citizens,  to 
witness  the  erection  of  a  simple  monument  to  the  memory 
of  John  Harvard.  It  is  known  to  you  all,  with  what  ready 
/orethought  our  Pilgrim  fathers  provided  for  the  education 
of  those  who  should  come  after  them.  Six  years  only  had 
elapsed,  from  the  time  that  Governor  Winthrop,  with  the  char- 
ter of  the  colony,  landed  on  the  banks  of  Mystic  River,  when 
the  General  Court  appropriated  four  hundred  pounds,  out  of 
the  scanty  resources  at  its  command,  for  the  erection  of  a 
school  or  college  at  Cambridge,  then  called  Newtown.  f  The 
views  of  our  worthy  fathers,  at  that  time,  probably  did  not 
extend  beyond  the  establishment  of  a  grammar  school. 

But  that  Providence,  which  on  so  many  other  occasions 
watched  over  the  infancy  of  America,  and  gave  the  right 
direction  to  its  first  beginnings,  was  vigilant  here.  In  the 
year  1637,  (the  year  following  that  in  which  the  school  at 
Newtown  was  established,)  the  Rev.  John  Harvard  arrived 
in  the  colony.  As  he  was  admitted  a  freeman  in  November, 
1637,  it  is  supposed  that  he  came  over  in  the  autumn  of  that 
year. 

This  ever-memorable  benefactor  of  learning  and  religion 
in  America,  had  been  educated  at  the  university  of  Cam- 
bridge in  England,  was  a  master  of  arts  of  Emmanuel  College 
in  that  university,  and  afterwards  a  minister  of  the  gospel. 
But  in  what  part  of  England,  or  in  what  year  he  was  born ; 

*  Address  delivered  at  the  erection  of  a  monument  to  John  Harvard, 
in  the  graveyard  at  Charlestown,  on  the  26th  of  September,  1828. 
f  See  note  A,  at  the  end. 

(173) 


174          MONUMENT  TO  HARVARD. 

where  he  was  settled  in  the  ministry ;  and  what  were  the 
circumstances  of  his  life,  before  leaving  his  native  land,  are 
matters  as  yet  unknown  to  us.  We  are  not  without  hopes, 
that  in  answer  to  inquiries  addressed  to  the  college  in  Eng- 
land where  our  founder  was  educated,  we  may  yet  derive 
some  information  on  these  interesting  points.* 

The  scanty  notices  which  our  early  histories  contain  of 
him,  lead  us  to  suppose  that  he  brought  to  this  country  the 
disease  which  soon  proved  fatal  to  him.  He  engaged,  how- 
ever, in  the  duties  of  his  profession,  and  was  employed  as  a 
preacher  in  the  church  in  this  place.  But  his  usefulness  in 
that  calling  was  destined  to  a  short  duration.  He  died  on 
the  fourteenth  of  September  of  the  year  following  his  arrival 
corresponding,  in  the  new  style,  to  the  twenty-fourth  of  Sep- 
tember; performing  in  his  last  act  a  work  of  liberality, 
destined,  we  trust,  to  stand  while  America  shall  endure,  and 
with  a  usefulness  as  wide  as  its  limits. 

By  his  last  will,  he  bequeathed  to  the  colony,  for  the 
endowment  of  the  school  at  Newtown,  one  moiety  of  his 
estate,  amounting  to  a  sum  little  short  of  eight  hundred 
pounds ;  a  bequest  which,  even  in  the  present  prosperous 
state  of  the  country,  would  be  thought  liberal,  and  which, 
in  its  condition  at  that  time,  may  truly  be  called  munificent. 

This  donation  gave  an  instantaneous  impulse  to  the  pro- 
jected establishment.  It  was  determined,  by  the  court,  to 
erect  the  school  into  a  college.  In  filial  commemoration  of 
the  place  where  several  of  our  fathers  had  been  educated,  the 
name  of  Newtown  was  changed  to  that  of  Cambridge ;  and 
the  college  itself  was  called  by  that  of  Harvard. 

And  thus  did  our  worthy  founder  become  the  instrument 
in  the  hand  of  Providence  of  effecting  the  design  which  the 
pious  leaders  of  the  colony  had  most  at  heart.  Such  he  was 
felt  to  be  by  his  contemporaries.  In  a  letter  written  by  some 
of  them,  in  1642,  they  say,  "  After  God  had  carried  us  safe 
to  New  England,  and  we  had  builded  our  houses,  provided 
necessaries  for  our  livelihood,  reared  convenient  places  for 

*  See  note  B,  at  the  end. 


MONUMENT    TO    HARVARD.  175 

God's  worship,  and  settled  the  civil  government,  one  of  the 
next  things  we  longed  for  and  looked  after  was  to  advance 
learning,  and  perpetuate  it  to  posterity,  dreading  to  leave  an 
illiterate  ministry  to  the  churches,  when  our  present  ministers 
should  lie  in  the  dust.  And  as  we  were  thinking  and  consult- 
ing how  to  effect  this  great  work,  it  pleased  God  to  stir  up 
the  heart  of  one  Mr  Harvard  (a  godly  gentleman  and  lover 
of  learning,  then  living  amongst  us)  to  give  the  one  half  of 
his  estate  towards  the  erecting  of  a  college,  and  all  his 
library."* 

The  college  instantly  went  into  operation,  on  the  footing 
of  the  ancient  institutions  of  Europe  ;  and  in  1642,  four 
years  only  after  the  decease  of  Harvard,  sent  forth  its  first 
class  of  graduates  ;  men  who  rose  to  eminence  in  the  minis- 
try of  the  gospel,  in  the  legal  profession,  and  in  the  public 
service,  both  at  home  and  abjoad.  One  of  the  first  class 
graduated  at  Cambridge  was  sent,  both  by  Cromwell  and 
Charles  II.,  as  minister  to  the  States  General  of  Holland. 
One  became  a  fellow  of  a  college  at  Oxford ;  two  received 
degrees  of  medicine  at  Leyden  and  Padua ;  one  received  a 
degree  of  divinity  at  Dublin  ;  and  on  one  was  conferred  the 
degree  of  doctor  of  divinity  at  Oxford,  then,  as  now,  the 
greatest  academical  distinction  to  which  an  English  theologian 
can  attain.f  Nor  was  it  without  example  that  young  men 
were  sent  from  England  to  receive  their  education  at  Harvard 
College,  within  a  few  years  after  its  foundation.  J 

With  such  energy  and  spirit  did  our  alma  mater  spring 
into  being ;  and  so  decisive  is  the  evidence,  that,  even  in  that 
first  stage  of  the  existence  of  the  college,  it  furnished  an 
education  adequate  to  every  department  of  the  civil  or  sacred 
service  of  the  country,  and  not  inferior  to  that  of  the  distin- 
guished schools  in  Europe. 

But  it  would  belong  rather  to  a  history  of  the  college  than 
to  a  eulogy  on  its  founder,  to  pursue  this  narrative.  I  will 

*  New  England's  First  Fruits.    Mass.  Hist  Coll.  I.  p.  202.    First  Series. 
\  See  note  C,  at  the  end. 

J  Johnson's  Wonder- Working  Providence.  Mass.  Hist  ColL  New 
Series.  VII.  29. 


176          MONUMENT  TO  HARVARD. 

only  add,  that,  till  about  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
it  remained  the  only  college  in  America ;  and,  consequently, 
up  to  that  period,  almost  the  only  source  of  liberal  education 
accessible  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

It  is,  then,  fellow-students,  one  hundred  and  ijnety  years, 
this  day,  since  the  death  of  the  man  who  was  recognized  by 
his  contemporaries  as  the  founder  of  the  most  ancient  semi- 
nary of  learning  in  the  country,  the  college  where  we  re- 
ceived our  education.  In  paying  these  honors  to  his  single 
name,  we  do  no  injustice  to  other  liberal  benefactors  of  earlier 
or  later  times.  It  is  a  part  of  the  merit  of  those  who  go 
forward  in  works  of  public  usefulness  and  liberality,  that 
they  construct  a  basis  on  which  others  of  kindred  temper,  who 
come  after  them,  may  build  ;  and  awaken  a  spirit  which  may 
lead  to  services  still  more  important  than  their  own. 

But,  considering  the  penury  of  the  colony,  the  exhaustion 
of  its  first  settlers,  and  the  extreme  difficulty  which  must,  in 
consequence,  have  attended  the  foundation  of  a  college,  it  is 
not  easy  to  estimate  the  full  importance  of  the  early  and 
liberal  benefactions  of  the  man  whom  we  commemorate. 
But  for  his  generosity,  the  people  might  have  been  depressed 
for  the  want  of  that  hope  which  they  built  on  such  an  insti- 
tution, and  from  the  fear  of  an  uneducated  posterity  ;  and 
society  might  so  far  have  yielded  to  the  various  causes  of 
degeneracy  incident  to  a  remote  and  feeble  colony,  as  never 
afterwards  to  have  felt  the  importance  of  learning,  nor  made 
provision  for  the  education  of  the  people  —  a  result,  we  may 
safely  say,  which  would  have  been  fatal  to  the  character  of 
this  community. 

But  it  was  otherwise  ordered  for  our  welfare.  A  generous 
spirit  was  guided  to  our  shores,  for  no  other  purpose,  as  it 
would  seem,  but  to  dispense  the  means  requisite  for  the  foun- 
dation of  a  college.  Less  than  two  hundred  years  have 
elapsed,  and  not  much  less  than  six  thousand  names  are  borne 
on  the  catalogue  of  the  institution,  whose  venerable  walls 
are,  indeed,  a  noble  monument  to  their  founder.  There  is  a 
tradition,  that,  till  the  revolutionary  war,  a  gravestone  was 
standing  within  this  enclosure,  over  the  spot  where  his  ashes 


MONUMENT    TO    HARVARD.  177 

repose.  With  other  similar  memorials,  it  was  destroyed  at 
that  period ;  and  nothing  but  the  same  tradition  remains  to 
guide  us  to  the  hallowed  spot.  Upon  it  we  have  erected  a 
plain  and  simple,  but  at  the  same  time,  we  apprehend,  a  per- 
manent memorial.  It  will  add  nothing  to  the  renown  of  him 
who  is  commemorated  by  it ;  but  it  will  guide  the  grateful 
student  and  the  respectful  stranger  to  the  precincts  of  that 
spot,  where  all  that  is  mortal  rests  of  one  of  the  earliest  and 
most  efficient  of  the  country's  benefactors. 

It  is  constructed  of  our  native  granite,  in  a  solid  shaft  of 
fifteen  feet  elevation,  and  in  the  simplest  style  of  ancient  art. 
On  the  eastern  face  of  the  shaft,  and  looking  towards  the 
land  of  his  birth  and  education,  we  have  directed  his  name 
to  be  inscribed  upon  the  solid  granite  ;  and  we  propose  to 
attach  to  it,  in  a  marble  tablet,  this  short  inscription,  in  his 
mother  tongue  :  — 

"  On  the  twenty-sixth  day  of  September,  A.  D.  1828,  this  Stone  was 
erected  by  the  Graduates  of  the  University  at  Cambridge,  in  honor  of 
its  Founder,  who  died  at  Charlestown,  on  the  twenty-sixth  day  of  Sep- 
tember, A.  D.  1638." 

On  the  opposite  face  of  the  shaft,  and  looking  westward, 
toward  the  walls  of  the  university  which  bears  his  name,  we 
have  provided  another  inscription,  which,  in  consideration  of 
his  character  as  the  founder  of  a  seat  of  learning,  is  expressed 
in  the  Latin  tongue  :  — 

"  In  piam  et  perpetuam  memoriam  JOHANNIS  HARVARDII,  annis  fere 
ducentis  post  obitum  ejus  peractis,  academic  qute  est  Cantabrigise  Nov- 
Anglorum  alumni,  ne  diutius  vir  de  litteris  nostris  optime  meritus  sine 
monumento  quamvis  humili  jaceret,  hunc  lapidem  ponendum  curavemnt." 

And  now  let  no  man  deride  our  labor,  however  humble,  as 
insignificant  or  useless.  With  what  interest  should  we  not 
gaze  upon  this  simple  and  unpretending  shaft,  had  it  been 
erected  at  the  decease  of  him  whom  it  commemorates,  and 
did  we  now  behold  it  gray  with  the  moss  and  beaten  with 
the  storms  of  two  centuries  !  In  a  few  years,  we,  who  now 
perform  this  duty  of  filial  observance,  shall  be  as  those  who 
VOL.  i.  23 


178  MONUMENT  TO  HARVARD. 

are  resting  beneath  us ;  but  our  children  and  our  children's 
children,  to  the  latest  generation,  will  prize  this  simple 
memorial,  first  and  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  the  honored  name 
which  is  graven  on  its  face,  but  with  an  added  feeling  of 
kind  remembrance  of  those  who  have  united  to  pay  this  debt 
of  gratitude. 

When  we  think  of  the  mighty  importance,  in  our  commu- 
nity, of  the  system  of  public  instruction,  and  regard  the  ven- 
erable man  whom  we  commemorate,  as  the  first  to  set  the 
example  of  contributing  liberally  for  the  endowment  of  places 
of  education,  (an  example  faithfully  imitated  in  this  region, 
in  almost  every  succeeding  age,)  we  cannot,  as  patriots,  admit 
that  any  honor  which  it  is  in  our  power  to  pay  to  his  memory, 
is  beyond  his  desert.  If  we  further  dwell  on  our  own  obli- 
gation, and  consider  that  we  ourselves  have  drank  of  the 
streams  that  have  flowed  from  this  sacred  well, — that  in 
the  long  connection  of  cause  and  effect,  which  binds  the 
generations  of  men  indissolubly  to  each  other,  it  is  perhaps 
owing  to  his  liberality  that  we  have  enjoyed  the  advantages 
of  a  public  education,  —  we  shall  surely  feel,  as  students, 
that  the  poor  tribute  we  have  united  to  render  to  his  memory 
falls  infinitely  below  the  measure  either  of  his  merit  or  of  our 
obligation. 

But,  humble  as  they  are,  let  these  acts  of  acknowledgment 
impress  on  our  bosoms  a  just  estimate  of  desert.  Of  all  the 
first  fathers  of  New  England,  the  wise  and  provident  rulers, 
the  grave  magistrates,  the  valiant  captains,  —  those  who 
counselled  the  people  in  peace,  and  led  them  in  war,  —  the 
gratitude  of  this  late  posterity  has  first  sought  out  the  spot 
where  this  transient  stranger  was  laid  to  rest,  scarce  a  year 
after  his  arrival  in  America.  It  is  not  that  we  are  insensible 
to  the  worth  of  their  characters,  nor  that  we  are  ungrateful 
for  their  services.  But  it  was  given  to  the  venerated  man 
whom  we  commemorate  this  day  first  to  strike  the  key-note 
in  the  character  of  this  people  —  first  to  perceive  with  a 
prophet's  foresight,  and  to  promote  with  a  princely  liberality, 
considering  his  means,  that  connection  between  private  mu- 
nificence and  public  education,  which,  well  understood  and 


MONUMENT    TO    HARVARD.  179 

pursued  by  others,  has  given  to  New  England  no  small  por- 
tion of  her  name  and  her  praise  in  the  land.  What  is  there 
to  distinguish  our  community  so  honorably  as  its  establish- 
ments for  general  education, — beginning  with  its  public 
schools,  supported  wholly  by  the  people,  and  continued 
through  the  higher  institutions,  in  whose  endowment  public 
and  private  liberality  has  gone  hand  in  hand?  What  so 
eminently  reflects  credit  upon  us,  and  gives  to  our  places  of 
education  a  character  not  possessed  by  those  of  many  other 
communities,  as  the  number  and  liberality  of  the  private  ben- 
efactions which  have  been  made  to  them  ?  The  excellent 
practice  of  liberal  giving  has  obtained  a  currency  here,  which, 
if  I  mistake  not,  it  possesses  in  few  other  places.  Men  give, 
not  merely  from  their  abundance,  but  from  their  competence  ; 
and  following  the  great  example,  which  we  now  celebrate, 
of  John  Harvard,  who  gave  half  his  fortune  and  all  his  books, 
it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  men  to  devote  a  very  considera- 
ble portion  of  estates  not  passing  the  bounds  of  moderation, 
to  the  endowment  of  public  institutions. 

And  well  does  the  example  of  Harvard  teach  us,  that  what 
is  thus  given  away  is  in  reality  the  portion  best  saved  and 
longest  kept.  In  the  public  trusts  to  which  it  is  confided,  it 
is  safe,  as  far  as  any  thing  human  is  safe,  from  the  vicissitudes 
to  which  all  else  is  subject.  Here,  neither  private  extrava- 
gance can  squander,  nor  personal  necessity  exhaust  it.  Here 
it  will  not  perish  with  the  poor  clay  to  whose  natural  wants 
it  would  else  have  been  appropriated.  Here,  unconsumed 
itself,  it  will  feed  the  hunger  of  mind,  —  the  only  thing  on  earth 
that  never  dies,  —  and  endure,  and  do  good  for  ages,  after  the 
donor  himself  has  ceased  to  live,  in  aught  but  his  bene- 
factions. 

There  is  in  the  human  heart  a  natural  craving  to  be 
remembered  by  those  who  succeed  us.  It  is  not  the  first 
passion  which  awakens  in  the  soul,  but  it  is  the  strongest 
which  animates,  and  the  last  which  leaves  it.  It  is  a  sort  of 
instinctive  philosophy,  which  tells  us,  that  we  who  live,  and 
move  about  the  eatth,  and  claim  it  for  our  own,  are  not  the 


180  MONUMENT    TO    HARVARD. 

human  rcCce ;  that  those  who  are  to  follow  us  when  we  are 
gone,  and  those  that  here  lie  slumbering  beneath  our  feet,  are 
with  us  but  one  company,  of  which  we  are  the  smallest  part. 
It  tells  us,  that  the  true  glory  of  man  is  not  that  which  blazes 
out  for  a  moment,  and  dazzles  the  contemporary  spectator; 
but  that  which  lives  when  the  natural  life  is  gone ;  which  is 
acknowledged  by  a  benefited  and  grateful  posterity,  whom  it 
brings  back,  even  as  it  does  us  at  this  moment,  with  thankful 
offerings  at  an  humble  tomb ;  and  gives  to  an  otherwise  ob- 
scure name  a  bright  place  in  the  long  catalogue  of  ages. 

We  stand  here  amidst  the  graves  of  some  of  the  earliest 
and  best  of  the  fathers  and  sons  of  New  England.  Men  of 
usefulness  and  honor  in  their  generation  lie  gathered  around 
us,  and  among  them,  no  doubt,  not  a  few,  whose  standing  in 
the  community,  whose  public  services,  and  whose  fortune 
placed  them,  in  the  estimate  of  their  day,  far  above  the  hum- 
ble minister  of  the  gospel,  who  landed  on  our  shores  but  to 
leave  them  forever.  But  were  it  given  to  man  to  live  over 
the  life  that  is  passed,  and  could  the  voice  of  a  superior  being 
call  on  the  sleepers  beneath  us  to  signify  whether  they  would 
not  exchange  the  wealth  and  the  honors  they  enjoyed  for  the 
deathless  name  of  this  humble  stranger,  how  many  would 
gladly  start  up  to  claim  the  privilege ! 

We  have  now,  fellow-students,  discharged  our  duty  to  the 
memory  of  a  great  benefactor  of  our  country.  In  this  age  of 
commemoration,  as  it  has  been  called,  it  was  not  meet  that 
the  earliest  of  those  to  whom  we  all  are  under  obligations, 
should  be  passed  over.  Nor  is  it  we,  who  are  here  assembled, 
nor  the  immediate  inhabitants  of  this  vicinity,  who  are  alone 
united  in  this  grateful  act.  What  is  done  for  intellectual  im- 
provement is  as  little  bounded  by  space  as  by  time.  Not  a 
few  of  the  sons  of  Harvard,  in  the  distant  parts  of  the  Union, 
have  promptly  contributed  their  mite  towards  the  erection  of 
this  humble  structure.  While  the  college  which  he  founded 
shall  continue  to  the  latest  posterity,  a  monument  not  unwor- 
thy of  the  most  honored  name,  we  trust  that  this  plain  me- 
morial also  will  endure.  While  it  guides  the  dutiful  votary 


MONUMENT    TO    HARVARD.  181 

to  the  spot  where  his  ashes  are  deposited,  it  will  teach  to 
those  who  survey  it  the  supremacy  of  mental  and  moral 
desert,  and  encourage  them  too,  by  a  like  munificence,  to 
aspire  to  a  name,  as  bright  as  that  which  stands  engraven  on 
its  shaft :  — 


•clarum  et  venerabile  nomen 


Gentibus,  et  multum  nostrse  quod  proderat  urbi1 


NOTES. 


NOTE  A,  p.  173. 

ALMOST  all  the  information  in  our  possession,  on  the  subject  of  Harvard, 
is  found  in  the  following  note  of  the  learned  and  accurate  editor  of  Win- 
throp's  Journal :  "  We  must  regret  that  Winthrop  has  taken  no  notice  of 
the  ever-honored  name  of  Rev.  John  Harvard,  except  in  the  loose  memo- 
randa at  the  end  of  his  MSS.  From  our  Colony  Records,  I  find  he  was 
made  free  2d  November,  1637,  at  the  same  time  with  Rev.  John  Fiske.  By 
a  most  diligent  antiquary,  —  John  Farmer,  Esq.,  of  Concord,  N.  H.,  —  this 
information  is  given  me  from  Rev.  Samuel  Danforth's  Almanac  for  1648 : 
'  7  mo.  14  day,  1638,  John  Harvard,  Master  of  Arts,  of  Emmanuel  College  in 
Cambridge,  deceased,  and,  by  will,  gave  the  half  of  his  estate  (which 
amounted  to  about  700  pounds)  for  the  erecting  of  the  College.'  My  cor- 
respondent adds,  '  I  do  not  recollect  that  any  other  authority  gives  the  exact 
time  of  his  death,  or  the  college  at  which  he  was  educated.'  Johnson,  Lib. 
II.  c.  12  and  19,  has  favored  us  with  more  than  any  other  book.  It  is  pecu- 
liarly vexatious  to  learn  from  Mather  of  the  founder  of  the  college,  which 
he  so  much  and  so  often  desired,  happily  in  vain,  to  rule,  only  the  amount 
of  his  bequest,  and  that  he  died  of  consumption.  The  sons  of  the  oldest 
university  in  our  country  will  be  pleased  with  my  extract  from  our  Colony 
Records,  I.  179,  of  the  first  motion  in  this  blessed  work.  '  The  court  agreed 
to  give  400  pounds  towards  a  school  or  college,  whereof  200  pounds  to  be 
paid  the  next  year,  and  200  pounds  when  the  work  is  finished,  and  the  next 
court  to  appoint  where  and  what  building.'  This  was  in  October,  1636,  in 
the  midst  of  the  war  with  the  Pequots,  and  the  beginning  of  the  Antinomian 
controversy  ;  and  we  should  remember  that  the  appropriation  was  equal  to  a 
year's  rate  of  the  whole  colony.  Harvard's  will  was  probably  nuncupative, 
as  it  is  nowhere  recorded."  —  Savage's  edition  of  Winthrop's  Journal,  Vol. 
II.  pp.  87,  88. 

Cotton  Mather  mentions  £779  17s.  2d.  as  the  precise  sum  bequeathed  by 
Harvard.  Governor  Winthrop  says  about  £800.  In  New  England's  First 
Fruits,  Harvard's  estate  is  said  to  have  been,  "  in  all,  about  £1700."  It  is 
probable,  therefore,  that,  in  the  foregoing  extract  from  Danforth's  Almanac, 
we  ought,  instead  of  £700,  to  read  £1700. 

A  Latin  elegy  to  the  memory  of  Harvard,  written  by  John  Wilson,  is 
subjoined  by  Mather  to  his  account  of  the  foundation  of  the  college.  In 

(182) 


NOTES.  183 

this  elegy,  (in  which  Harvard  is  represented  as  speaking,)  the  following 
lines  occur :  — 

"  Me  (licet  indignum)  selegit  gratia  Christ! 

Fundarem  musis,  qui  pia  tecta  piis. 
(Non  quod  vel  chara  moriens  uxore  carerem 

Aut  haeres  alius  quod  mihi  nullus  erat ;) 
Haeredes  vos  ipse  meos  sed  linquere  suasit 

Usque  ad  dimidium  sortis  opumque  Deus ; 
Sat  ratus  esse  mihi  sobolis,  pietatis  amore 

Educet  illustres  si  schola  nostra  viros." 

From  these  lines  it  might  be  inferred  that  Harvard  left  a  widow,  and 
some  other  heir,  who  was  not  his  son. 


Since  the  above  was  written,  in  addition  to  the  facts  contained  in  the 
following  note  B,  a  very  valuable  gleaning  has  been  made  from  the  records 
of  the  church  and  town,  by  the  accurate  and  judicious  historian  of  Charles- 
town,  Mr  Richard  Frothingham,  Jun.  From  this  source,  we  learn  that 
Harvard  was  admitted  an  inhabitant  on  the  6th  of  August,  1637;  that  he 
was  admitted,  with  his  wife  Anne,  a  member  of  the  church,  on  the  6th  of 
November ;  and  was  "  some  time  minister  of  God's  word  "  in  Charlestown, 
although  no  account  is  found  in  the  records  of  his  ordination. 

It  further  appears,  from  the  town  records,  that  he  had  a  share  in  a  division 
of  land  in  1637  and  1638 ;  in  1637,  a  grant  was  made  to  him  of  "three  and 
a  half  feet  of  ground  for  a  portal "  for  his  house  ;  and  on  the  26th  of  April, 
1638,  he  was  one  of  a  committee  "  to  consider  of  some  things  tending 
towards  a  body  of  laws."  Mr  F.  makes  it  quite  probable  that  the  widow  of 
Harvard  married  Rev.  Thomas  Allen.  The  house  built  by  Harvard  was 
standing  in  1697.  See  Frothingham's  History  of  Charlestown,  pp.  74,  75. 

I  take  this  opportunity  to  acknowledge  the  inadvertence  with  which  I  fell 
into  the  popular  error,  —  not  only  in  the  former  editions  of  this  address,  but  in 
the  tablet  attached  to  the  monument,  —  in  making  the  reduction  from  old  to 
new  style,  in  the  date  of  the  death  of  Harvard.  He  died  on  the  14th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1638 ;  which,  as  the  difference  between  the  styles  was  then  ten  days, 
corresponds,  of  course,  with  the  24th  of  September.  My  attention  was 
kindly  called  to  this  error  by  Rev.  W.  J.  Budington,  who  has  correctly 
explained  the  subject,  in  his  "  History  of  the  First  Church  of  Charlestown." 
p.  182. 


NOTE  B,  p.  174 

Since  this  address  was  delivered,  the  register  of  Emmanuel  College, 
Cambridge,  has  been  examined  by  President  Sparks,  Hon.  James  Savage, 
and  by  the  author.  It  appears  that  John  Harvard  entered  that  college  as  a 
pensioner,  17th  April,  1628;  that  he  commenced  Bachelor  of  Arts  in  1631, 


184  NOTES. 

and  took  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  in  1635.  The  fruit  of  Mr  Savage's 
researches  will  be  found  in  Massachusetts  Hist  Coll.,  Third  Series,  Vol. 
VIII.  pp.  247,  249. 

The  family  of  Harvard  still  exists  in  England.  A  letter  to  the  author  of 
this  volume,  from  the  Rev.  John  Harvard,  a  respectable  clergyman  of  the 
Wesleyan  church,  may  be  found  in  Hon.  S.  A.  Eliot's  "  History  of  Harvard 
College,"  Appendix,  p.  134.  This  gentleman  is  descended  from  the  brother 
of  our  distinguished  benefactor;  but  the  traditions  of  the  family  in  England 
do  not  go  so  far  back  as  the  accounts  which  have  been  preserved  or  collected 
on  this  side  of  the  water. 


NOTE  C,  p.  175. 

The  following  is  the  list  of  the  first  class  of  Harvard  College,  as  it  stands 
in  the  catalogue :  — 

1642. 

Benjamin  Woodbridge,  Mr.  et  Oxon.  1648,  S.  T.  D.          .  *1684 

GEORGIUS  DOWNING,  Eques  1660,  Baronettus  1663,  Oliv.  Crom. 

et  Caroli  II.  Leg.  apud  Resp.  Bat *1684 

Johannes  Bulfdey,  Mr. *1689 

Gulidmus  Hubbard,  Mr. *1704 

Samuel  Bellingham,  Mr.,  M.  D.  Lugd 

Johannes  Wilson,  Mr. *1691 

Henricus  Saltonstall,  M.  D.  Patav.  1649  et  Oxon.  1652,  Socius 

Tobias  Barnard  

Nathaniel  Brewster,  Th.  Bac.  Dublin. *1690 

Of  these  graduates  at  Harvard  College,  of  the  first  class,  Woodbridge 
was  settled  in  the  ministry  at  Newbury,  in  Berkshire,  England.  Curious 
particulars  of  Sir  George  Downing*  are  given  in  Hutchinson,  Vol.  I.  p. 
107,  but  particularly  in  Savage's  edition  of  Winthrop's  Journal,  Vol.  II.  pp. 
241,  242.  A  descendant  of  Sir  George  Downing,  of  the  same  name, 
founded  Downing  College,  at  Cambridge,  in  England,  on  a  more  liberal 
foundation  than  any  other  college  in  that  university.  Bulkley  was  settled 
as  a  clergyman  at  Fordham,  in  England,  and,  after  his  ejectment  as  a  non- 
conformist, practised  physic  with  success  in  London.  He  was  the  son  of 
the  eminent  divine  of  the  same  name,  the  founder  of  Concord,  in  Middlesex 
county.  Hubbard  was  the  minister  of  Ipswich,  the  famous  historian  of 
New  England  and  of  the  Indian  wars.  Wilson  was  minister  of  Dorches- 
ter, and  is,  with  several  others  of  this  class,  —  among  whom  are  Barnard 
and  Brewster,  —  particularly  commemorated  by  Johnson,  in  the  "  Wonder- 
Working  Providence." 

*  He  has  recently  been  made  the  subject  of  two  very  learned  and  interest- 
ing lectures,  delivered  before  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  by  Mr 
Charles  W.  Uphain,  of  Salem 


APPENDIX. 


ON  the  6th  of  September,  1827,  a  few  gentlemen,  graduates  of  Harvard 
University,  happened  to  be  assembled  at  the  house  of  Dr  George  Parkman 
in  Boston.  Some  conversation  took  place  on  the  propriety  of  erecting  a 
monument  to  the  memory  of  JOHN  HARVARD,  the  founder  of  the  University 
at  Cambridge.  The  proposal  met  with  the  hearty  concurrence  of  the 
gentlemen  present,  and  was  believed  to  be  one  which  would  prove  accept- 
able to  the  graduates  at  large.  In  order  to  carry  it  into  effect,  without 
unnecessary  delay,  it  was  determined  to  proceed  immediately  to  the  adop- 
tion of  the  steps  necessary  to  be  taken  to  bring  the  subject  before  the 
alumni  of  the  college.  The  meeting  was  accordingly  organized,  and,  in 
pursuance  to  the  resolutions  adopted  by  it,  the  following  Circular  was 
issued :  — 

"  A  meeting  of  a  few  individuals  who  have  received  their  education  at  Har- 
vard College  was  held  in  Boston,  on  the  6th  instant.  The  Hon.  F.  C.  Gray 
was  called  to  the  chair,  and  Mr  E.  Everett  appointed  secretary. 

"  The  object  of  the  meeting  was  stated  to  be,  to  consider  the  propriety  of 
paying  a  tribute  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  John  Harvard,  founder  of  the 
University  at  Cambridge,  by  erecting  a  suitable  monument  in  the  graveyard 
at  Charlestown,  where  he  lies  buried  :  and,  on  motion,  it  was 

"  Resolved,  That  the  chairman  and  secretary  of  this  meeting  be  requested  to 
prepare  a  statement  on  this  subject,  to  be  submitted  to  the  graduates  of 
Harvard  College,  inviting  a  subscription  of  one  dollar  each,  for  the  object 
proposed. 

"  Resolved,  That  the  Hon.  P.  O.  Thatcher  be  requested  to  act  as  treasurer 
of  the  fund  to  be  raised;   and  that  the  chairman,  secretary  and  treasurer 
adopt  the  requisite  measures  for  the  erection  of  the  monument. 
"  The  meeting  was  then  dissolved. 

"  Copy  from  the  record, 

"Attest,  EDWARD  EVERETT,  Secretary." 


In  pursuance  of  the  foregoing  resolutions,  the  undersigned  beg  leave  to 
submit  the  following  statement  to  the  graduates  of  Harvard  College  :  — 
VOL.  I.  24         (185) 


186  APPENDIX. 

John  Harvard  was  educated  at  Emmanuel  College,  in  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  in  England,  and,  having  received  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts 
•was  settled  as  a  minister  in  that  country.  He  came  over  to  America,  as  is 
supposed,  in  1637,  having  been  admitted  a  freeman  of  the  colony  on  the  2d 
of  November  in  that  year.  After  his  arrival  in  this  country,  he  preached  a 
short  time  at  Charlestown,  but  was  laboring  under  consumption,  and  died 
September  14,  1638.  By  his  will,  he  left  the  half  of  his  estate  (which 
amounted  in  the  whole  to  £1559  14s.  4d.)  as  an  endowment  of  the  college, 
which  the  General  Court,  two  years  before,  had  determined  to  establish ;  and 
which,  in  honor  of  this  singular  liberality,  was,  by  order  of  the  court,  thence- 
forward called  by  his  name. 

These  few  facts  are  all  which  our  histories  have  preserved  to  us,  relative  to 
this  ever-honored  name.  The  previous  life  of  the  stranger,  who,  in  the  short . 
space  of  a  year  passed  in  a  state  of  declining  health,  was  able  to  lay  this  great 
foundation  of  good  for  remote  posterity,  is  unknown.  Of  his  brief  ministry 
in  Charlestown  nothing  is  recorded.  We  are  unacquainted  even  with  the  age 
at  which  he  died ;  and  no  memorial  exists  to  point  out  the  spot  where  his 
ashes  rest,  upon  the  burying  hill  in  Charlestown. 

In  our  ancient  and  venerable  "University,  a  most  illustrious,  and,  we  trust, 
imperishable  monument  has  been  reared  to  his  memory.  But  it  has  appeared 
to  many  of  the  children  of  our  alma  mater,  that  common  respect  towards  the 
name  of  a  public  benefactor  suggests  the  propriety  of  marking  out,  by  a 
suitable  memorial,  the  spot  where  his  mortal  remains  are  deposited.  It  seems 
unbecoming  that  the  stranger,  who  inquires  for  such  a  memorial  of  the  earli- 
est benefactor  of  the  cause  of  education  in  the  country,  should  be  told  that 
none  such  has  been  raised. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  feelings,  the  undersigned  have  been  directed 
to  submit  to  the  consideration  of  those  who  have  received  their  education  at 
Harvard  College  the  propriety  of  erecting  a  simple  and  suitable  monument 
to  the  memory  of  its  founder,  on  the  burying  hill  in  Charlestown.  It  is 
proposed  that  it  should  be  a  plain,  substantial,  permanent  work,  of  moderate 
cost,  to  be  executed  in  hewn  granite.  With  a  view  to  unite  in  this  dutiful 
act  as  many  of  the  sons  of  Harvard  as  approve  the  object,  it  has  been  thought 
proper  to  limit  the  proposed  subscription  to  one  dollar  from  each  individual. 
Although  it  is  only  to  the  sons  of  Harvard  that  the  undersigned  have  thought 
themselves  authorized  directly  to  address  this  invitation,  yet,  as  the  college  at 
Cambridge  may  be  regarded  as  the  parent  stock  of  nearly  all  the  New  Eng- 
land seminaries,  we  shall  cordially  welcome  the  cooperation  of  those  among 
us,  who,  although  not  educated  at  Cambridge,  share  with  us  in  our  respect 
for  the  memory  of  the  first  benefactor  of  American  Letters. 

As  soon  as  the  requisite  arrangements  can  take  place,  personal  application 
will  be  made  to  the  alumni  of  the  college  resident  in  Boston  and  other  large 
towns,  with  a  view  of  receiving  the  subscriptions,  to  the  amount  of  one  dollar 
from  each  individual,  of  those  who  may  be  inclined  to  unite  in  this  act  of 
dutiful  commemoration.  Gentlemen  to  whom,  from  their  remote  and  dis- 
peised  places  of  residence,  it  may  not  be  practicable  to  make  this  personal 
application,  are  invited  to  transmit  their  subscription  by  letter,  addressed  to 
the  secretary.  A  list  of  the  subscribers,  with  a  memorandum  of  the  pro- 
ceedings towards  effecting  the  object  proposed,  will  be  deposited  in  the 
archives  of  Harvard  College. 


APPENDIX.  18? 

The  suitable  steps  for  erecting  the  work  will  be  taken  without  unnecessary 
delay.  Meantime  it  is  requested,  as  this  statement  is  not  addressed  to  the 
public,  that  it  may  not  find  its  way  into  the  newspapers. 

F.  C.  GRAY,  Chairman. 

EDWARD  EVERETT,  Secretary. 
BOSTON,  September  14,  1827. 


In  consequence  of  this  invitation,  a  considerable  number  of  the  gradu- 
ates of  the  college  subscribed  the  sum  proposed  towards  the  erection  of  the 
monument.  In  the  summer  of  1828,  the  committee  of  arrangements  found 
themselves  enabled  to  proceed  to  the  execution  of  their  trust  They 
applied  to  the  selectmen  of  Charlestown  for  permission  to  erect  the  monu- 
ment on  the  burying  hill  in  that  town,  which  request  was  promptly  granted. 
A  contract  was  then  entered  into,  between  the  treasurer  of  the  fund  and 
Mr  Solomon  Willard,  architect,  for  the  immediate  execution  of  the  work. 
In  pursuance  of  this  contract,  the  monument  was  hewn,  by  permission,  from 
the  quarry  of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument  Association,  at  Quincy.  Mr 
Almoran  Holmes  was  employed  by  the  architect  to  transport  it  from  the 
quarry  to  the  burying  hill  For  this  purpose  nineteen  yoke  of  oxen  were 
employed.  Its  weight  is  between  twelve  and  thirteen  tons.  It  was  raised 
to  its  position  on  the  hill  by  Mr  Holmes,  on  the  26th  of  the  month,  by  the 
application  of  a  powerful  apparatus,  by  which  the  mass  was  held  suspended 
freely  in  the  air,  till,  at  a  signal  given,  it  was  lowered  to  its  destined  place. 

The  monument  is  a  solid  obelisk,  fifteen  feet  in  height,  four  feet  square  at 
the  larger  extremity,  and  two  at  the  smaller,  and  rises  from  a  substantial 
foundation,  without  a  base,  from  the  surface  of  the  ground.  On  the  eastern 
face  is  inscribed  the  name  of  Harvard,  in  large  letters  and  in  high  relief — 
the  first  experiment,  it  is  believed,  of  this  kind  in  working  the  granite  of 
this  country.  Beneath  this  name  is  an  English  inscription,  and  on  the  oppo- 
site face  an  inscription  in  Latin,  wrought  in  white  marble  tablets  by  Mr  A. 
Carey,  and  attached  to  the  shaft.  The  monument  is  enclosed  in  a  simple 
iron  railing,  surrounding  a  space  nine  feet  square,  and  stands  on  a  beautiful 
and  commanding  position  on  the  top  of  the  burying  hill  in  Charlestown. 

The  26th  day  of  September,  being  the  anniversary  of  the  decease  of 
Harvard,*  was  fixed  upon  for  the  erection  of  the  monument,  of  which  notice 
was  given  in  the  public  papers  the  day  before.  The  corporation  and 
faculty  of  Harvard  College,  the  president  of  the  United  States,  the  Rev. 
Dr  Kirkland,  the  committee  appointed  by  the  citizens  of  Charlestown  on 
the  subject  of  the  monument,  Hon.  T.  H.  Perkins,  president  of  the 
Bunker  Hill  Monument  Association,  and  S.  Willard,  Esq.,  architect  of  the 
monument,  had  been  invited  by  the  committee  of  arrangements  to  attend 
on  this  occasion.  A  large  company  of  spectators,  students  of  the  univer- 
sity, and  citizens  at  large,  were  also  present  At  eleven  o'clock  precisely 
the  Rev  Dr  Walker,  pastor  of  the  Second  Congregational  Church  ir 

*  See  the  concluding  paragraph  of  note  'A,  p.  183. 


188  APPENDIX. 

Charlestown,  introduced  the  ceremonial  by  a  prayer,  and  the  monument  was 
then  lowered  to  its  permanent  position. 

The  president  of  the  United  States,  having  been  obliged  to  return  to 
Washington,  and  being  thereby  prevented  from  attending  on  this  occasion, 
had  addressed  the  following  letter  to  Dr  Parkman,  a  member  of  the  com- 
mittee of  arrangements,  which  was  now  read :  — 

WAiHiKOTOif,  Septembtr  21,  1828. 
DEAR  SIR  : 

Among  the  many  privations  incident  to  my  sudden  but  necessary  departure 
from  home,  to  return  to  my  family  here,  was  that  of  the  pleasure  which  I  had 
indulged  the  hope  of  enjoying,  by  personal  participation  in  that  act  of  filial 
reverence  to  the  memory  of  our  common  benefactor,  "one  Mr  Harvard,"  in 
which  you  are  so  worthily  engaged. 

In  compliance  with  your  request,  I  had,  I  believe,  rashly  promised  to  address 
a  few  remarks  to  the  spectators  who  may  be  assembled  to  witness  the  erection 
of  this  tardy  monument  —  a  monument  creditable  to  the  feelings  of  those 
by  whom  it  is  now  raised,  but  which  can  add  little  to  the  renown  of  him 
•whom  it  is  intended  to  honor. 

The  name  of  Harvard  is  not  one  of  those  towards  which  his  own  age  or 
their  posterity  can  be  chargeable  with  ingratitude.  From  the  very  interesting 
printed  paper  enclosed  in  your  letter,  it  appears  that  from  the  first  institution 
of  the  college  it  received  his  name  —  an  honor  far  beyond  the  reach  of  brass, 
marble,  or  granite.  A  single  act  of  posthumous  benevolence  has  enrolled 
him  among  the  benefactors  of  mankind ;  and  of  the  thousands  who  in  the 
lapse  of  two  centuries  have  drank  from  the  fountain  of  living  waters  opened 
in  the  rock  of  the  desert  at  the  touch  of  his  staff,  what  soul  so  insensible  has 
there  been  among  them,  as  not  to  cherish  the  memory  of  him,  to  whose 
bounty  they  have  been  indebted  for  so  much  of  their  intellectual  cultivation 
and  of  their  moral  refinement !  His  name,  identified  from  the  first  with  the 
University  which  he  founded,  shares  in  all  the  honors  of  all  her  sons ;  and  his 
bequest,  the  amount  of  which  must  be  measured  by  the  spirit  with  which  it 
was  bestowed,  has  erected  to  his  honor  a  monument  in  the  heart  of  every 
pupil  admitted  within  her  walls,  which,  renewed  from  year  to  year,  and  mul- 
tiplied from  age  to  age,  will  endure  long  after  granite,  brass,  and  marble  shall 
have  crumbled  into  dust. 

I  do  not  think  it  surprising  that  the  contemporary  memorials  of  the  person 
and  character  of  Mr  Harvard  are  so  scanty.  Your  "  New  England's  First 
Fruits  "  mention  him  with  honor  as  a  godly  gentleman,  and  a  lover  of  learn- 
ing :  but  these  were  qualities  very  common  among  the  first  settlers  of  New 
England.  All  the  principal  founders  both  of  the  Plymouth  and  Massachu- 
setts colonies  were  persons  of  family,  education,  and  high  intellectual  refine- 
ment. Neither  trading,  speculation,  nor  romantic  adventure,  had  any  share 
in  the  motives  of  their  emigration.  There  might  be,  and  doubtless  was,  some 
mixture  of  worldly  ambition  interwoven  with  the  purposes  of  individuals 
among  them ;  but  in  the  annals  of  the  world  New  England  stands  alone  as 
emphatically  the  colony  of  conscience.  Mr  Harvard  was  not  one  of  the  origi- 
nal settlers.  He  came  eight  or  ten  years  after  them,  when  provision  had 
been  amply  made  for  the  first  wants  of  nature  and  of  society.  Food,  raiment, 


APPENDIX 

shelter,  the  worship  of  God,  and  civil  government,  had  all  been  successively 
acquired  and  instituted.  These  are  the  first  necessities  of  civilized  man,  and 
these  having  been  supplied,  the  next  in  natural  course  was  education.  Har- 
vard came,  with  a  considerable  estate,  precisely  at  the  time  when  this  want 
was  pressing  most  heavily  upon  them.  Other  colonies  have  fallen  into  the 
practice  of  sending  their  children  to  be  educated  in  the  schools  and  colleges 
of  the  mother  country.  But  it  was  precisely  against  the  doctrines  of  those 
schools  and  colleges  that  the  New  England  colonies  had  been  settled.  They 
were  therefore  debarred  of  that  resource,  and  constrained  to  rely  for  the  edu- 
cation of  their  children  upon  themselves. 

Harvard  was  himself  a  clergyman.  Possessed  of  a  fortune  competent  to  a 
comfortable  subsistence  in  his  native  country,  his  emigration  could  have  been 
dictated  only  by  principles  of  moral  and  religious  duty.  But  these  motives 
were  common  to  the  great  mass  of  the  first  settlers,  whose  sincerity  had  been 
tested  by  greater  sacrifices  and  sufferings  than  appear  to  have  been  required 
or  endured  by  him.  He  probably  was  not  involved  in  those  vehement  reli- 
gious controversies  upon  questions  unintelligible  to  us  and  to  them,  but  upon 
which  they  wasted  their  understanding  and  their  affections.  He  was  not 
distinguished  among  the  divines  of  the  age  as  a  disputant.  He  took  a  less 
beaten  path  to  the  veneration  of  after  times,  and  a  shorter  road  to  heaven. 

I  shall  assuredly  be  with  you,  at  the  performance  of  your  truly  filial  duties, 
in  spirit  and  inclination.  For  your  kind,  good  wishes  accept  the  hearty 
return  and  thanks  of  your  friend  and  brother  pupil  of  Harvard, 

J.  Q.  ADAMS. 

To  Dr  GEORGE  PABKMAN,  Boston. 

The  foregoing  address  was  then  delivered  by  Mr  EDWARD  EVERETT,  a 
member  of  the  committee  of  arrangements,  and  at  their  request. 


SPEECH    AT    NASHVILLE,    TENNESSEE.* 


MR  PRESIDENT  AND  GENTLEMEN: 

THE  toast  which  has  just  been  announced,  and  the  kind 
attention,  of  which  I  find  myself  on  this  occasion  the  object, 
demand  my  particular  acknowledgments.  Coming  among 
you  from  a  remote  district  of  the  country ;  personally  ac- 
quainted, on  my  arrival,  with  but  a  single  individual  besides 
your  distinguished  representative  in  Congress,  (Hon.  John 
Bell ;)  possessing  none  of  those  public  and  political  claims  on 
your  notice,  which  are  usually  acknowledged  by  courtesies 
of  this  kind,  —  I  find  myself  the  honored  guest  of  this  day  ; 
cordially  greeted  by  so  large  a  company,  where  I  could  have 
expected  only  to  form  a  few  acquaintances ;  and  made  to  feel 
myself  at  home  in  the  land  of  strangers.  I  should  feel  that 
sense  of  oppression  which  unmerited  honor  ought  always  to 
produce,  did  I  look  within  myself  for  the  reason  of  this  flat- 
tering distinction.  It  is  not  there,  gentlemen,  that  I  look  for 
it.  I  know  that  it  flows  from  a  much  higher  source  ;  from 
your  ready  hospitality ;  from  your  liberal  feeling,  which  is 
able  to  take  in  those  parts  of  the  republic  which  are  the  most 
remote  from  you.  and  which  disposes  you,  even  towards  the 
person  of  an  individual  stranger,  to  strengthen  the  bonds  of 
good  will  between  all  the  brethren  of  the  great  American 
family.  It  is  in  this  view  of  the  subject,  alone,  that  I  could 
reconcile  my  accepting  this  kind  proffer  of  your  public  atten- 
tions with  the  inoffensive  privacy  which  it  is  my  study  to 
preserve  in  my  present  journey  ;  for-  the  sake  of  which  I 
have  been  led,  on  more  than  one  occasion  since  I  left  home,  to 

*  Delivered  at  a  public  dinner  at  Nashville,  Tennessee,  2d  June,  1829 

(190) 


SPEECH    AT    NASHVILLE.  191 

express  a  wish  to  be  excused  from  similar  attentions  on  the 
part  of  political  friends  —  attentions  which  would  have  implied 
a  public  standing  which  I  do  not  possess,  and  would  have 
caused  my  excursion  to  be  ascribed  to  another  than  its  real 
motive. 

That  motive,  gentlemen,  is  the  long-cherished  wish  to  be- 
hold, with  my  own  eyes,  this  western  world,  not  of  promise 
merely,  but  of  most  astonishing  and  glorious  fulfilment. 
The  wonders,  as  they  may  justly  be  called,  of  the  west ;  the 
prodigious  extent  of  the  territory ;  the  magnitude  of  the 
streams  that  unite  into  one  great  system  the  remotest  parts 
of  this  almost  boundless  region ;  the  fertility  of  its  soil,  of 
which  the  accounts,  till  they  are  verified  by  actual  observa- 
tion, seem  rather  like  the  fables  of  romance  than  sober  narra- 
tive, —  were  among  the  earliest  objects  that  attracted  my 
youthful  curiosity.  While  visiting  some  of  the  most  ancient 
abodes  of  civilization  in  the  old  world,  I  had  frequent  occa- 
sion to  observe,  (and  I  have  no  doubt,  Mr  President,*  that 
your  observation  confirmed  the  fact,)  that  the  curiosity  of  the 
intelligent  men  of  Europe  is  more  awake  on  the  subject  of 
this,  than  of  any  other  portion  of  our  country.  Of  the  At- 
lantic coast  they  have  some  general  knowledge,  arising  from 
the  length  of  time  since  it  was  settled,  and  the  political  events 
of  which  it  has  been  the  theatre ;  but  the  valley  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi seems  to  have  presented  itself,  as  it  were  suddenly,  to 
their  imaginations,  as  a  most  peculiar,  important,  ancl  hitherto 
comparatively  unknown  region.  But  from  the  time  that  I  have 
been  led  more  particularly  to  reflect  on  the  western  country, 
in  its  social  relations  to  the  rest  of  the  Union,  I  have  felt  an 
irresistible  desire  to  endeavor  to  understand,  from  personal 
observation,  the  stupendous  work  of  human  advancement 
which  is  here  going  on,  and  of  which  the  history  of  mankind 
certainly  affords  no  other  example.  I  cannot  but  think  it  the 
most  interesting  subject  of  contemplation  which  the  world  at 
present  affords.  Apart  from  the  grand  natural  features  of  the 

*  Hon.  Geo.  W.  Campbell,  formerly  secretary  of  the  treasury,  and 
minister  of  the  United  States  at  St  Petersburg. 


192  SPEECH    AT    NASHVILLE. 

scene,  the  aspect  of  populous  towns,  springing  like  an  exha- 
lation from  the  soil.  —  of  a  vacant  or  savage  wilderness  trans- 
muted, in  one  generation,  into  a  thickly  inhabited  territory,  — 
must  certainly  appeal  as  strongly  to  the  inquisitive  mind,  as 
the  sight  of  crumbling  towers,  of  prostrate  columns,  of 
cities  once  renowned  and  powerful  reduced  to  miserable 
ruins,  and  crowded  provinces  turned  into  deserts.  While 
these  latter  objects  are  thought  sufficient  to  reward  the  trav- 
eller for  a  distant  pilgrimage  to  foreign  countries,  he  may  well 
be  pardoned  for  feeling  himself  attracted  by  the  opposite 
spectacle  which  is  presented  to  him  at  home  —  a  scene,  not  of 
decay,  but  of  teeming  life  ;  of  improvement  almost  too  rapid 
to  seem  the  result  of  human  means. 

It  is  a  remark  often  quoted  of  a  celebrated  foreign  states- 
man, (M.  de  Talleyrand,)  that  America  presents,  as  you  travel 
westward,  in  point  of  space,  the  same  succession  of  appear- 
ances which  may  be  traced  in  Europe,  as  you  go  back  in 
point  of  time ;  that  as  you  move  from  the  coast  towards  the 
interior,  on  this  continent,  you  pass  through  those  stages  of 
civilization  which  are  found  in  Europe,  as  you  follow  its  his- 
tory back  to  the  primitive  ages.  If  we  take  the  aboriginal 
tribes  of  our  continent  into  the  survey,  there  is  some  founda- 
tion for  the  remark ;  but  applied  to  our  own  population,  it  is 
rather  ingenious  than  solid.  The  scene  presented  by  our 
western  country  is  not  that  of  a  barbarous  race  growing  up, 
like  the  primitive  tribes  of  Europe,  into  civilized  nations  ;  but 
it  is  the  far  more  rapid  and  intelligent  progress  of  a  civilized 
people  extending  itself  through  a  rude  wilderness,  and  trans- 
planting the  mature  arts  of  life  into  the  hidden  recesses  of 
the  forest.  The  traveller  who  penetrates  a  thousand  or  fifteen 
hundred  miles  from  the  coast,  to  the  interior,  may  find,  it 
is  true,  the  log  hut  of  the  first  settler,  as  he  may  find  within 
the  limits  of  Philadelphia  and  New  York,  ay,  of  Paris  or 
London,  many  a  wretched  hovel  far  less  commodious  ;  but  he 
will  also  find  here  substantial  dwellings,  spacious  and  even 
magnificent  mansions,  —  the  abodes  of  competence  and  of 
abundance,  —  surrounded  by  all  the  indications  of  the  im- 
proved arts  of  life.  I  have  learned,  to  my  astonishment,  that 


SPEECH    AT    NASHVILLE.  193 

within  twenty  years  the  city  of  Nashville  has  grown  up,  from 
not  exceeding  four  or  five  brick  houses,  to  its  present  condi- 
tion, as  a  large,  populous,  and  thriving  capital ;  the  mart  of  a 
great  and  increasing  commerce  ;  exhibiting,  for  the  number  of 
its  inhabitants,  as  many  costly  edifices  as  any  city  in  the 
Union.  The  log  houses  have  disappeared,  not  in  the  lapse  of 
two  thousand,  or  even  of  two  hundred  years,  but  in  the  lapse 
of  twenty  years.  The  primitive  forts  of  the  old  hunters  are 
gone,  not  by  the  decay  of  age,  but  in  the  progress  of  society 
for  a  single  generation.  Far  as  we  axe  from  the  coast,  we 
find  ourselves,  as  we  walk  abroad,  not  in  the  rude  infancy  of 
society,  but  in  the  midst  of  its  arts,  its  refinements,  and  its 
elegancies  —  the  product,  not  of  centuries,  but  of  the  life  of 
man.  We  are  told,  that 

"  A  thousand  years  scarce  serve  to  form  a  state ; 
An  hour  may  lay  it  in  the  dust." 

The  reverse  seems  almost  true.  While  we  contemplate  in 
Europe  the  fate  of  kingdoms  that  have  been  tottering  for 
ages  on  the  brink  of  decay,  slowly  dying  for  a  thousand  years, 
we  behold  our  own  republics  rising  into  maturity  within  the 
experience  of  a  generation.  Were  they  not  our  countrymen, 
our  fathers,  —  did  not  the  gray  hairs  of  a  few  surviving  vet- 
erans carry  conviction  to  our  minds,  —  we  could  scarce  credit 
the  narrative  of  the  pioneers  of  the  western  settlements.  It 
was  not  till  1764,  that  even  Daniel  Boone,  whose  flight  from 
wilderness  to  wilderness  forms  a  sort  of  Hegira  in  the  west, 
made  his  appearance  in  East  Tennessee.  The  first  cession 
of  land  obtained  by  treaty  of  the  Indians  in  this  state,  is  of 
no  older  date  than  April,  1775  —  a  momentous  month :  as 
if  the  great  order  of  events  in  the  country's  progress  required, 
that  simultaneously  as  the  blow  was  struck  which  gave  inde- 
pendence to  America,  the  portals  of  the  western  mountains 
should  be  thrown  open  to  her  sons,  who  had  hitherto  been 
expressly  forbidden  to  extend  their  settlements  beyond  the 
Ohio.  All  those  high-spirited  adventurers  cannot  have  passed 
oft'  the  stage,  who  moved  forward  at  the  head  of  the  column 
of  the  first  emigrants.  It  is  related  that  in  the  year  1766, 
VOL.  i.  25 


194  SPEECH    AT    NASHVILLE. 

not  a  white  man  was  found  settled  on  the  Tennessee  or  the 
Cumberland,  by  a  party  who  in  that  year  descended  these 
rivers.  The  population  of  the  state,  at  the  present  period, 
cannot  be  less  than  600,000.* 

But  it  is  not  merely  the  rapid  growth  of  the  western  settle- 
ments into  populous  states,  that  surprises  the  traveller  from 
the  sea-coast.  For  this  growth  he  must  be  prepared,  because 
he  finds  it  set  down  in  the  statistical  tables  of  the  country, 
and  because,  as  a  mere  matter  of  figures,  he  cannot  but  com- 
prehend it.  What  strikes  him  with  astonishment,  is  the  ad- 
vanced state  of  the  community,  —  the  social  improvement 
which  he  witnesses.  He  finds  this  great  region  abounding 
not  merely  with  fertile  lands,  but  with  highly  cultivated  farms, 
filled,  not  with  wild  hunters,  but  with  a  substantial  yeomanry. 
The  forests  are  interspersed,  like  the  regions  he  has  left,  with 
villages  active  with  all  the  arts  of  life.  He  descends  the 
mighty  rivers  in  one  of  those  floating  castles  —  half  ware- 
house and  half  palace  —  which  the  genius  of  Fulton  has 
launched  on  all  our  waters;  built  here  in  greater  numbers 
than  in  the  east,  and  with  at  least  equal  magnificence ;  and 
on  these  rivers  he  finds,  from  Pittsburg  down  to  New  Orleans, 
a  succession  of  large  towns,  surpassed  only  by  a  few  of  the 
Atlantic  cities  ;  growing  fast  into  rivalry  with  some  of  them  ; 
and  already  rich,  not  merely  in  wealth,  but  in  all  the  refine- 
ments of  life,  and  in  all  the  institutions  that  adorn  the  nature 
of  social,  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  man. 

Such  a  spectacle  cannot  be  contemplated  without  mingled 
feelings  of  astonishment  and  gratification.  I  am  sure  you 
will  pardon  me  for  adding  that  it  enhances  the  pleasure  with 
which  a  son  of  New  England  contemplates  it,  to  find  that 
among  those  who  have  swelled  the  numbers  of  this  great 
family,  —  who  have  come  not  merely  to  share  your  prosperity, 
but,  in  former  days,  to  partake  the  more  doubtful  fortunes  of 
the  early  settlements,  —  are  not  a  few  of  the  children  of  that 
distant  region.  He  rejoices  that  he  is  able,  in  addition  to  the 
ties  of  common  language,  government,  and  laws,  to  trace 

*  In  1840,  it  was  829,210. 


SPEECH    AT    NASHVILLE.  195 

those  of  common  origin  and  kindred  blood.  Nor  does  he 
rejoice  alone.  The  feeling,  I  am  sure,  is  mutual.  This  fes- 
tive occasion,  gentlemen,  is  a  pledge  that  you,  too,  are  not  less 
willing  to  seize  an  opportunity,  however  slight,  of  promoting 
that  mutual  good  will,  which  is  more  important  for  the  per- 
petuity of  the  Union  than  all  the  forms  of  the  constitution. 
The  beloved  land  of  my  birth,  gentlemen,  compared  with 
yours,  is,  generally  speaking,  a  barren  region.  Our  rocks  and 
sands  do  not  yield  those  rich  harvests  which  clothe  your 
more  fertile  soil  with  plenty  ;  nor  are  we  connected  with  our 
sister  states  by  noble  streams  like  yours,  which  penetrate  the 
country  for  thousands  of  miles,  and  bind  the  deepest  interior 
to  the  marts  on  the  coast.  But  I  may  venture  to  assure  you, 
on  behalf  of  my  fellow-citizens  at  home,  that  we  behold,  not 
with  envy,  but  with  pride,  your  natural  advantages  and 
wonderful  progress.  When  we  are  visited  by  strangers  from 
Europe,  after  we  have  shown  them  what  is  most  worthy  of 
notice  among  ourselves,  we  habitually  add  that  this  is  little, 
compared  with  the  astonishing  advancement  of  the  west. 
We  boast  of  your  improvements  as  more  surprising  than  our 
own.  We  are  in  the  habit  of  contrasting  our  comparatively 
tardy  progress  under  a  foreign  colonial  system  with  your  more 
rapid  growth  beneath  the  cheering  influence  of  American 
independence.  We  look  to  you  to  complete  the  great  under- 
taking which  was  but  begun  by  the  fathers  of  the  American 
people,  who  settled  the  Atlantic  coast.  Reflecting  men  in 
hat  region  never  regarded  the  great  work  to  be  performed  in 
America  as  confined  to  the  settlement  of  the  strip  along  the 
shore.  It  was  to  open  the  whole  western  world  as  an  abode 
of  civilized  freemen  ;  and  we  wish  you  God-speed  in  accom- 
plishing your  share  of  the  noble  work.  Two  centuries  have 
passed  away  since  the  first  settlers  of  the  Atlantic  coast  were 
struggling  with  those  hardships  which  the  generation  imme- 
diately preceding  you  was  here  called  to  encounter  ;  and  we 
cordially  rejoice  that  a  period  of  thirty  years  has  purchased 
for  you  that  security  and  prosperity  which  were  with  us  the 
growth  of  a  century  and  a  half.  We  feel  happy  in  the 


196  SPEECH    AT    NASHVILLE. 

belief,  that,  in  your  further  advancement,  you  will  not  foiget 
the  cradles  of  the  American  race,  and  that  you  will  bear  in 
kindly  remembrance  the  men  and  the  deeds  which  are  among 
the  dearest  titles  of  our  glory.  In  casting  the  eye  over  the 
map  of  your  state,  we  behold  among  the  names  of  your 
counties  those  of  our  Lincoln,  Greene,  Knox,  Warren,  and 
Perry.  We  feel  that  our  hearts  are  thus  linked  together  by 
the  tie  of  common  devotion  to  the  precious  memory  of  our 
great  and  good  men  ;  and  we  confidently  rest  in  the  assur- 
ance, that  when  the  present  generation,  with  us  as  with  you, 
shall  have  passed  away,  our  children  will  unite  with  yours  in 
the  tribute  of  gratitude  to  those,  who,  whether  at  the  north 
or  south,  the  east  or  the  west,  have  stood  or  fallen  in  their 
country's  cause. 

Gentlemen,  it  has  been  justly  stated,  that,  when  the  next 
census  shall  be  taken,  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi  will 
probably  be  found  to  contain  a  population  larger  than  that 
with  which  the  old  thirteen  states  plunged  into  the  revolu- 
tionary war  ;  and  when,  after  a  period  of  ten  years  more,  yet 
another  enumeration  shall  be  made,  you  will  then,  perhaps, 
outvote  us  in  the  councils  of  the  nation.  The  sceptre  will 
then  depart  from  Judah,  never  to  return.  We  look  forward 
to  that  event  without  alarm,  as  in  the  order  of  the  natural 
growth  of  this  great  republic.  We  have  a  firm  faith  that  our 
interests  are  mutually  consistent ;  that  if  you  prosper,  we 
shall  prosper  ;  if  you  suffer,  we  shall  suffer ;  that  our  strength 
will  grow  with  the  closeness  of  our  union  ;  and  that  our 
children's  welfare,  honor,  and  prosperity  will  not  suffer  in  the 
preponderance,  which,  in  the  next  generation,  the  west  must 
possess  in  the  balance  of  the  country. 

One  word  more,  gentlemen,  and  I  will  relieve  your  pa- 
tience. In  the  course  of  human  events,  it  is  certain  that  we 
who  are  now  assembled  shall  never  all  be  assembled  together 
again.  It  is  probable,  that,  when  we  shall  part  this  evening, 
the  most  of  us  will  do  it  to  meet  no  more  on  earth.  Allow 
me,  with  the  seriousness  inseparable  from  that  feeling,  to 
assure  you  that  this  unexpected  and  flattering  mark  of  your 


SPEECH    AT    NASHVILLE.  197 

kindness  will  never  be  forgotten  by  me  or  mine  ;  but,  at 
whatever  distance  of  time  or  place,  and  in  whatever  vicissi- 
tudes of  fortune,  will  be  remembered  as  one  of  the  most 
grateful  incidents  of  my  life.  Permit  me,  in  taking  my  seat, 
to  reciprocate  the  sentiment  last  announced,  by  proposing,  — 
THE  INHABITANTS  OF  NASHVILLE: — MAT  THEIR  PROS- 
PERITY, LIKE  THEIR  ClTY,  BE  FOUNDED  ON  A  ROCK. 


SPEECH    AT   LEXINGTON,    KENTUCKY/ 


MR  PRESIDENT  AND  GENTLEMEN  : 

CUSTOM  and  propriety  forbid  me  to  remain  silent ;  but  I  hope 
it  would  be  superfluous,  as  I  am  sure  it  would  be  unavailing, 
to  attempt  to  express  my  feelings  on  receiving  the  kind 
attentions  of  this  company.  No  gentleman,  who  has  himself 
had  occasion,  while  absent  from  home,  to  experience  the 
value  of  acts  of  private  or  public  hospitality,  will  doubt  the 
sentiments  excited  in  me  by  these  testimonials  of  your 
favorable  opinion.  If  the  welcome  that  awaits  him  beneath 
his  own  roof,  on  his  return,  make  the  most  direct  appeal  to 
the  sensibilities  of  the  traveller,  it  is  with  a  satisfaction 
scarcely  inferior,  heightened  by  a  sense  of  obligation,  that  he 
receives  in  a  distant  region  those  proofs  of  kindness  and 
assurances  of  good  will,  in  which  he  seems  to  recover  some 
of  the  best  endearments  of  home  in  the  land  of  strangers.  I 
would  spare  you,  gentlemen  —  I  would  spare  myself — the 
effort  to  describe,  in  set  phrases,  what,  if  felt,  needs  no 
explanation ;  what,  if  it  be  not  felt,  cannot  be  explained ; 
and  beg  you,  with  the  plainness  of  a  sincere  and  grateful 
heart,  to  believe  that  I  place  the  proper  value  on  this  public 
and  cordial  manifestation  of  your  friendly  feeling  ;  and  that, 
while  I  take  to  myself  —  and  feel  honored  in  doing  so  —  so 
much  of  it  as  flows  from  your  hospitable  regard  towards  a 
stranger,  I  rejoice  more  specially  in  this  festive  meeting,  as  a 
pledge  of  good  will  between  the  distant  sections  of  the 
Union  to  which  we  respectively  belong.  That  Union,  gen- 
tlemen, resting  as  it  does  on  a  political  basis,  must  derive 

*  Delivered  at  a  public  dinner,  at  Lexington,  Kentucky,  17th  June,  1829. 

(198) 


SPEECH    AT    LEXINGTON.  199 

much  of  its  strength  and  value  from  harmony  and  cordiality 
between  the  distant  members.  In  a  despotic  government, 
resting  on  the  principle  of  the  immediate  subordination  of  all 
the  parts  to  one  head,  this  harmony  among  the  subjects  is 
not  necessary.  It  may  even  be  the  interest  of  the  sovereign 
to  play  off  the  jealousies  of  the  different  parts  of  the  state 
against  each  other,  thus  preventing  them  from  combining 
against  himself.  But  in  a  popular  government,  where  every 
thing  is  ultimately  referred  to  the  will  of  the  citizens,  mutual 
good  will  between  them  is  all-important. 

It  is  therefore  most  fortunate  for  us  that  the  basis  on  which 
our  Union  rests  is  natural,  broad,  and  stable.  'The  several 
parts  of  which  it  is  composed  have  not  been  bound  to  each 
other  by  the  measures  of  a  preponderating  political  power, 
exerted  by  the  stronger  members  to  attach  the  weaker  to  their 
sovereignty.  Nor  do  we  owe  our  gathering  together  into 
this  family  of  states  to  the  intermarriage  of  northern  Ferdi- 
nands with  southern  Isabellas.  Our  Union  was  not  cemented 
by  the  sealing-wax  of  diplomatic  congresses,  where  foreign 
statesmen  sit  in  judgment  to  parcel  out  reluctant  provinces 
among  rival  empires ;  nor  by  the  blood  of  disastrous  battle-^ 
fields.  Had  such  been  the  origin  of  our  association,  we 
might  have  expected  that  incurable  antipathies  would  exist 
between  the  discordant  members,  and  that  a  union  com- 
menced in  power,  violence,  or  intrigue,  would  continue  in 
disgust  while  it  lasted,  and  end  in  civil  war.  On  the  con- 
trary, among  numerous  instructive  aspects  in  which  our  polit- 
ical system  presents  itself  to  the  contemplation  of  the  friends 
of  liberty,  none  is  more  important  than  that  in  which  it 
teaches  how  a  popular  government  is  to  be  extended  over  a 
vast  region  of  country,  filled  by  a  rapidly  increasing  popula- 
tion, by  means  of  a  confederation  of  states.  The  superficial 
observer,  not  merely  abroad,  but  at  home,  may  regard  the; 
multiplication  of  states,  with  their  different  local  interests,  as 
an  alarming  source  of  dissension,  threatening  eventual  destruc- 
tion to  the  republic.  But  had  the  sagacity  of  the  most  pro- 
found politician  been  exercised,  to  contrive  a  mode  in  which 
the  continent  of  North  America  should  become  one  broad 


200  SPEECH    AT    LEXINGTON. 

theatre  for  the  exercise  of  the  rights  and  the  enjoyment  and 
perpetuation  of  the  privileges  of  republican  government  and 
rational  liberty,  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  any  other  so 
effectual,  and  at  the  same  time  so  simple,  could  have  been 
devised  by  him,  as  the  creation  of  a  number  of  separate 
states,  successively  formed,  as  a  population  becoming  dense 
in  the  older  settlements  had  poured  itself  into  the  newer 
fields  of  adventure  and  promise ;  united  by  a  confederacy  in 
the  pursuit  of  all  objects  of  common  and  general  interest ; 
and  separate,  independent,  and  sovereign  as  to  all  of  individ- 
ual concern.  It  is  thus  that  our  Union  is  extending  itself, 
not  as  a  mere  matter  of  political  arrangement,  still  less  by 
compulsion  and  power,  but  by  the  choice  and  act  of  the 
individual  citizens. 

What  have  we  seen  in  all  the  newly-settled  portions  of  the 
Union  ?  The  hardy  and  enterprising  youth  finds  society  in 
the  older  settlements  comparatively  filled  up.  His  portion 
of  the  old  family  farm  is  too  narrow  to  satisfy  his  wants  or 
his  desires,  and  he  goes  forth,  with  the  paternal  blessing,  and 
generally  with  little  else,  to  take  up  his  share  of  the  rich 
heritage  which  the  God  of  nature  has  spread  before  him  in 
this  western  world.  He  quits  the  land  of  his  fathers  —  the 
scenes  of  his  early  days  —  with  tender  regret  glistening  in 
his  eye,  though  hope  mantles  on  his  cheek.  He  does  not,  as 
he  departs,  shake  off  the  dust  of  the  venerated  soil  from  his 
feet ;  but  he  goes  on  the  bank  of  some  distant  river,  to  per- 
petuate the  remembrance  of  the  home  of  his  childhood.  He 
piously  bestows  the  name  of  the  spot  where  he  was  born  on 
the  spot  to  which  he  has  wandered ;  and  while  he  is  laboring 
with  the  difficulties,  struggling  with  the  privations,  languish- 
ing, perhaps,  under  the  diseases  incident  to  the  new  settlement 
and  the  freshly  opened  soil,  he  remembers  the  neighborhood 
whence  he  sprang ;  the  roof  that  sheltered  his  infancy ;  the 
spring  that  gushed  from  the  rock  by  his  father's  door,  where 
he  was  wont  to  bathe  his  heated  forehead,  after  the  toil  of 
his  youthful  sports ;  the  village  school-house ;  the  rural 
church ;  the  graves  of  his  father  and  his  mother.  In  a  few 
years,  a  new  community  has  been  formed ;  the  forest  has 


SPEECH    AT    LEXINGTON.  201 

disappeared  beneath  the  sturdy  arm  of  the  emigrant ;  his  chil- 
dren have  grown  up,  the  hardy  offspring  of  the  new  clime  ; 
and  the  rising  settlement  is  already  linked,  in  all  its  partialities 
and  associations,  with  that  from  which  its  fathers  and  founders 
had  wandered.  Such,  for  the  most  part,  is  the  manner  in 
which  the  new  states  have  been  built  up ;  and  in  this  way  a 
foundation  is  laid,  by  Nature  herself,  for  peace,  cordiality,  and 
brotherly  feeling  between  the  ancient  and  recent  settlements 
of  the  country. 

It  is,  however,  the  necessary  course  of  things,  that,  as  the 
newly-settled  portion  of  the  country  is  organized  into  states, 
possessing  each  the  local  feeling  and  local  interests  of  sepa- 
rate political  communities,  some  prejudices  —  like  the  domes- 
tic dissensions  of  the  members  of  the  same  family  —  should 
spring  up  among  them,  or  between  them  and  the  older  states. 
These  may  owe  their  origin  to  the  more  exclusive  settlement 
of  some  of  the  new  states  from  some  of  the  old  ones  respec- 
tively ;  to  supposed  inconsistency  of  the  interests  of  different 
sections  of  the  country  ;  to  the  diversity  of  manners  incident 
to  the  peculiarity  of  geographical  and  social  position,  and  the 
leading  pursuits  of  life  ;  or  to  the  conflicts  of  party  politics, 
which  are  of  necessity,  in  a  free  country,  often  capricious,  and 
as  violent  as  they  are  uncertain.  From  these  and  other 
causes,  on  which  I  need  not  dwell,  and  without  any  impeach- 
ment of  the  prosperous  operation  of  our  system,  prejudices 
may  arise  between  the  different  sections  of  the  country, 
calculated  to  disturb  that  harmony,  for  which  a  deep  founda- 
tion is  laid  in  nature,  and  which  it  is  all-important  to  preserve, 
and  if  possible  to  increase.  To  remove  these  prejudices,  to 
establish  kind  feelings,  to  promote  good  will  between  the 
different  members  of  the  political  family,  appears  to  me, 
without  exception,  the  most  important  object  at  which  a 
patriotic  citizen,  in  any  portion  of  the  country,  can  aim.  Our 
union  is  our  strength,  and  our  weakness  too  ;  —  our  strength, 
so  long  as  it  exists  unimpaired  and  cherished ;  our  weakness, 
whenever  discord  shall  expose  a  vulnerable  point  to  hostile 
art  or  power.  Even  the  separate  prosperity  of  the  states  — 
supposing  they  could  prosper  separately,  which  they  cannot 
VOL.  i.  26 


202  SPEECH    AT    LEXINGTON. 

—  is  not  enough  ;  I  had  almost  said,  is  to  be  deprecated 
They  ought,  for  their  perfect  safety,  to  owe  their  prosperity 
in  some  degree  to  each  other ;  to  mutual  dependence ;  to 
common  interest,  and  the  common  feeling  derived  from  it,  or 
strengthened  by  it. 

It  is  with  these  sentiments,  (if  I  may  be  permitted  to 
allude  to  my  own  public  conduct  before  a  company  of  gentle- 
men of  various  political  opinions,  and  on  an  occasion  conse- 
crated to  the  oblivion  of  every  topic  of  party  strife,)  that 
since  I  have  been  a  member  of  Congress,  I  have  supported 
the  policy  which  aims  to  open  or  to  perfect  the  communica- 
tion between  the  distant  sections  of  the  country,  particularly 
by  the  extension  and  preservation  of  the  National  Road.  The 
state  of  which  I  am  a  citizen  has  already  paid  between  one 
and  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  towards  the  construction 
and  repair  of  that  road ;  and  I  doubt  not  she  is  prepared  to 
contribute  her  proportion  towards  its  extension  to  the  place 
of  its  destination,  as  well  as  towards  the  completion  of  the 
full  design,  by  constructing  a  lateral  branch  through  this  state 
and  the  states  south  of  Kentucky,  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
The  friends  of  internal  improvement  in  the  Atlantic  States 
do  not  pretend  to  be  indifferent  to  their  own  interest.  They 
know  that  the  National  Road  is  a  highway  for  the  products  of 
their  factories,  their  fisheries,  and  their  commerce.  But  I 
trust  also  they  act  upon  higher  principles  —  a  regard  to  the 
national  Union ;  that  they  perceive  what  Washington  per- 
ceived, and  began  to  inculcate,  in  the  very  moment  of  cessa- 
tion from  war,  —  almost  before  he  had  put  off  his  harness,*  — 
that  nothing  is  more  essential  to  the  strength  of  this  Union 
than  an  easy  communication  from  east  to  west. 

Subsidiary,  in  no  small  degree,  to  this,  and  every  other 
measure  of  legislative  enactment  aiming  at  the  same  end,  is 
that  interchange  of  the  courtesies  of  social  life  by  which 
kind  feelings  are  to  be  awakened  or  fostered.  As  between 
individuals,  so  between  states,  which  are  composed  of  indi- 
viduals, there  is  a  temper  and  a  feeling,  as  important  to  be 

*  See  Vol.  II.  p.  153. 


SPEECH    AT    LEXINGTON.  203 

rightly  directed  as  the  course  of  legislation  or  the  public  pol- 
icy. On  this  topic,  although  perhaps  more  appropriate  to  the 
occasion,  I  could  not,  within  any  reasonable  limits,  nor  with- 
out going  beyond  the  bounds  of  delicacy  towards  the  audience 
I  address,  express  all  that  I  feel ;  all  that  has  been  inspired  in 
my  bosom,  by  what  I  have  witnessed  of  the  courtesy,  the 
cordiality,  the  hospitality  of  the  west.  I  would  not,  to  be 
sure,  be  thought  to  have  been  so  uninformed  of  any  part  of 
the  country,  as  to  be  wholly  ignorant  of  the  state  of  public 
sentiment  prevailing  in  it,  on  any  important  point.  But  it 
will  not,  I  hope,  be  thought  impertinent,  if  I  say  that  it  has 
been  not  without  some  surprise,  as  well  as  the  highest  grati- 
fication, that  I  have  made  a  journey  of  between  three  and 
four  thousand  miles  in  the  west,  in  the  public  conveyances 
by  land  and  water,  always  without  a  companion,  often  un- 
known, and  without  having  heard  a  syllable  which  could 
give  pain  to  the  feelings  of  (what  I  trust  I  shall  ever  show 
myself)  a  dutiful  son  of  New  England.  I  cannot  but  cherish 
the  hope,  that  improving  means  of  communication  between 
the  states  will  put  it  in  the  power  of  increasing  numbers  of 
our  brethren  in  other  parts  of  the  Union  to  give  as  good  an 
account  of  that  portion  of  it  to  which  I  belong,  and  from  an 
experience  as  agreeable. 

Gentlemen,  there  is  no  place  in  the  west  I  have  taken  a 
greater  interest  in  visiting,  than  your  hospitable  town  —  an 
interest  strengthened  by  the  former  residence  of  a  beloved 
and  lamented  brother  among  you,  and  his  connection  with 
the  university  here  established,  which  has  already  done  so 
much,  and  is  destined,  I  am  sure,  to  do  so  much  more,  for  the 
pullic  good  in  this  part  of  the  country.  Every  patriot,  every 
reflecting  man,  who  considers  that  useful  knowledge,  widely 
diffused,  is  the  only  sure  basis  of  enlightened  freedom,  sym- 
pathizes with  you  in  your  regret  for  that  disaster,  which  has 
reduced  its  well-provided  apartments  and  stately  walls  to  mel- 
ancholy ruins.  The  public  spirit  which  raised,  will,  I  doubt 
not,  speedily  restore,  those  walls,  and  infuse  new  energy  into 
an  institution  justly  ranked  among  the  most  respectable  in 
the  country,  an  honor  to  this  town  and  to  the  state,  and  a 


204  SPEECH    AT    LEXINGTON. 

public  benefit  to  the  west.  Indeed,  in  the  early  care  which, 
in  this  and  some  of  the  neighboring  states,  has  been  had  for 
the  establishment  of  places  of  education,  though  much  is 
naturally  still  to  be  done,  I  recognize  the  spirit  which  animat- 
ed the  Pilgrim  fathers  of  New  England  (never  to  be  men- 
tioned by  their  descendants  without  praise)  in  the  same  cause. 
You  have  had  your  Morrison,  as  we  had  our  Harvard.  As  a 
community,  you  have  already  given  pledges  that  you  are  de- 
termined your  posterity  shall  have  cause  to  bless  your  mem- 
ory, as  we  have  to  bless  the  memory  of  our  ancestors.  Let 
but  the  foundations  be  deeply  laid  in  a  liberal  public  and 
private  patronage,  and  the  intellectual  edifice — the  solid 
fabric  of  an  enlightened  community  —  will  stand  firm,  though 
the  brick  and  the  marble  may  for  a  time  sink  beneath  the 
devouring  flames,  and  the  scientific  treasures  they  contained 
be  reduced  to  dust  and  ashes. 

There  is  one  association  recalled  to  my  mind,  in  visiting 
this  place,  to  which  I  should  be  unpardonable,  if  I  were  insen- 
sible —  an  association  which  has  perpetuated,  in  the  name  of 
your  city,  that  of  an  ever-memorable  village  in  the  county  I 
inhabit,  and  in  the  near  neighborhood  of  my  residence. 
When  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Lexington,  on  the  nineteenth 
of  April,  1775,  reached  a  party  of  hunters  assembled  at  the 
spring  in  this  place,  they  resolved,  in  prophetic  commemora- 
tion of  that  event,  to  give  the  name  of  Lexington  to  the 
place  of  their  encampment,  and  the  town  that  should  there 
be  founded.  Not  more  than  fifty  years,  I  believe,  have  passed 
away  since  the  actual  laying  out  of  this  town ;  and,  in  that 
period,  what  a  monument  have  not  you  and  your  fathers 
reared  to  the  brave  and  good  men,  who,  at  that  doubtful 
crisis  of  the  country's  fate,  on  the  morn  of  her  independence, 
offered  up  their  lives  in  her  sacred  cause  !  They  were  not  of 
your  kindred,  except  in  the  kindred  of  struggling  liberty,  and 
by  the  blood  which  they  shed  for  your  freedom  as  for  their 
own.  They  lie  in  their  humble  graves,  in  the  beautiful 
village  where  they  fell,  and  a  simple  stone  marks  the  scene 
of  their  costly  sacrifice  ;  but  how  worthily,  in  the  remote 
west,  has  their  pious  self-devotion  been  commemorated,  ii? 


SPEECH    AT    LEXINGTON.  205 

the  ample  streets,  the  sightly  dwellings,  the  substantial  public 
edifices,  in  the  charitable,  the  literary,  the  religious  founda- 
tions of  this  important  town  ! 

The  day  of  our  present  meeting  carries  us  back,  by  a 
natural  and  most  interesting  coincidence,  to  the  same  event- 
ful period  ;  to  the  battle-fields,  which  have  rendered  so  many 
portions  of  the  Atlantic  coast  a  classic  soil ;  and  to  those 
historical  recollections,  which  are  a  rich  portion  of  the  moral 
treasures  of  United  America.  It  is  the  seventeenth  of  June. 
On  that  day,  fifty-four  years  ago,  the  heights  of  Charlestown, 
the  place  of  my  residence,  were  the  scene  of  that  great  and 
costly  sacrifice  to  the  cause  of  American  liberty.  The 
precious  blood  there  shed  flowed  not  alone  for  the  ancient 
colonies,  by  whom  the  revolutionary  war  was  fought ;  but 
for  you,  also,  their  hopeful  offspring.  O  that  the  brave  and 
devoted  spirits  who  there  offered  up  their  lives  could  have 
caught  a  glimpse,  in  their  dying  moments,  of  the  prosperity 
they  were  achieving  for  regions  then  beyond  the  line  of 
American  colonization,  and  for  the  millions  that  are  springing 
up  in  the  mighty  west !  O  that  they  could  have  anticipated, 
in  the  last  agony,  the  tribute  of  gratitude  which  beams  in 
your  glistening  eyes  ! 

But  little  more  than  half  a  century  has  elapsed  since  that 
momentous  event ;  and  meantime,  in  the  astonishing  progress 
of  our  country,  this  state,  then  an  almost  pathless  wilderness, 
half  explored,  untilled,  or  tilled  only  by  the  bold  hunter,  who 
went  to  the  field  with  a  spade  in  one  hand  and  a  rifle  in  the 
other,  has  become  itself  the  parent  of  other  rising  states. 
Beyond  the  Wabash  —  beyond  the  Mississippi  —  there  are 
now  large  communities,  who  look  to  these  their  native  fields 
with  the  same  feelings  with  which  your  fathers  looked  back 
to  their  native  homes  in  Virginia.  I  have  myself,  within  a 
week  or  two,  heard  an  individual,  who  had  been  to  explore 
for  himself  a  new  home  in  Illinois,  and  was  on  his  return  to 
take  out  his  family  to  the  chosen  spot,  even  while  commend- 
ing the  abundance  and  fertility  of  the  vast  prairies  in  that 
region,  check  himself,  as  we  were  passing  by  some  of  the 
prosperous  settlements,  the  comfortable  houses,  the  rich  corn- 


206  SPEECH    AT    LEXINGTON. 

fields,  the  pleasant  meadows,  the  beautiful  woodland  pastures 
of  his  native  state,  and  exclaim,  "  After  all,  there  is  nothing 
on  God's  earth  like  old  Kentucky  !  " 

And  thus,  gentlemen,  it  is  that  civilization,  improvement, 
and  our  republican  institutions  of  government  are  making 
their  auspicious  progress  from  region  to  region,  throughout 
the  continent,  founded  on  the  happiest  conception  of  political 
wisdom,  and  confirmed  by  the  dear  ties  of  nature  and 
kindred.  The  rapid  growth  of  the  country  has  brought  into 
unusual  association  those  opposite  feelings  and  relations 
which  belong  respectively  to  ancient  and  modern  states,  and 
were  never  before  combined  in  one.  And  the  torch  of 
enlightened  liberty,  originally  kindled  at  the  altars  of  James- 
town and  Plymouth,  and  long  ago  transmitted  across  the 
mountains,  is  still  travelling  onward  and  onward,  through  the 
wide  west.  It  requires  no  great  stretch  of  the  imagination 
to  trace  its  auspicious  path  to  regions  yet  lying  in  the  un- 
tenanted  solitude  of  nature  ;  nor  to  apply  to  it,  with  still 
happier  augury,  the  beautiful  language  by  which  the  poet 
has  described  the  revival  of  freedom  among  the  nations  of 
the  elder  world  :  — 

"I  saw  the  expecting  regions  stand, 

To  catch  the  coming  flame  in  turn ; 
I  saw,  from  ready  hand  to  hand, 

The  bright  but  struggling  glory  burn. 
And  each,  as  she  received  the  flame, 

Lighted  her  altar  with  its  ray ; 
Then,  smiling  to  the  next  who  came, 

Speeded  it  on  its  sparkling  way." 

But,  Mr  President,  I  must  check  myself  on  this  delightful 
theme,  and  spare  your  patience.  Allow  me,  in  sitting  down, 
to  renew  my  thanks  to  this  respectable  company,  for  their 
friendly  and  hospitable  attentions,  and  to  propose  the  follow- 
ing sentiment :  — 

THE  EASTERN  AND  WESTERN  STATES  :  —  ONE  IN  ORIGIN, 
ONE  IN  INTEREST  .*  UNITED  IN  GOVERNMENT,  MAY  THEY  BE 
WILL  MORE  UNITED  BY  MUTUAL  GOOD  WILL. 


SPEECH  AT  THE  YELLOW  SPRINGS,  IN  OHIO.* 


MR  CHAIRMAN  : 

PERMIT  me  to  thank  you  and  this  respectable  company 
for  the  sentiment  just  announced,  although  I  find  it  difficult 
to  do  so  in  any  suitable  terms.  It  is  known  to  most  of  the 
company  that  I  arrived  here  two  or  three  hours  since,  with 
my  worthy  friend,  your  fellow-citizen,  (Mr  Fales,  of  Dayton,) 
with  no  other  anticipation  than  that  of  enjoying  the  natural 
beauties  of  this  lovely  spot,  where  every  thing  seems  com- 
bined that  can  delight  the  eye,  afford  recreation,  and  promote 
health.  To  meet,  in  addition  to  the  gratification  of  a  visit 
to  so  agreeable  a  retreat,  the  kind  and  unexpected  welcome 
of  such  a  company,  inspires  me,  I  need  not  say,  with  emo- 
tions which  I  had  better  leave  to  your  indulgence  to  imagine, 
than  attempt  to  express.  Allow  me,  therefore,  to  pass  from 
a  topic  so  unimportant  as  my  private  feelings,  and  dwell  a 
few  moments  on  those  views  which  present  themselves  to 
the  mind  of  the  stranger  in  visiting  your  prosperous  state. 

My  first  distinct  impressions  relative  to  this  state  were 
formed  some  thirteen  years  ago,  in  the  interior  of  the  conti- 
nent of  Europe,  from  a  work  which  had  then  just  been 
published  by  your  distinguished  fellow-citizen,  Dr  Drake  — 
"  The  Picture  of  Cincinnati."  Having  at  that  time  an  oppor- 
tunity, through  the  pages  of  one  of  the  literary  journals  of 
Germany,  f  to  call  the  attention  of  the  reading  public  in  that 
quarter  to  the  wonderful  progress  you  had  made  and  were 

*  Delivered  at  a  public  dinner,  at  the  Yellow  Springs,  in  Ohio,  June 
29,  1829. 

t  The  Gottingische  gelehrte  Anzeigen,  for  1st  September,  1817. 

(207) 


208  SPEECH    AT    THE    YELLOW    SPRINGS. 

making,  as  set  forth  in  the  work  alluded  to,  I  found  the 
account  to  be  received  almost  with  incredulity.  Nor  was 
this  wonderful.  I  remember  to  have  passed  eighteen  months 
in  that  country,  traversing  it,  to  a  considerable  extent,  in 
several  directions,  before  I  had  seen  one  new  house  in  prog- 
ress of  erection.  With  such  a  state  of  things  about  them, 
(the  consequence  of  the  disastrous  political  condition  of 
Europe,)  you  can  easily  conceive  that  they  found  it  difficult 
to  credit  the  statement,  when  they  were  told  that  Ohio 
contained  in  1787  not  a  single  white  settlement,  in  1790 
three  thousand  inhabitants,  in  1800  forty-two  thousand,  in 
1810  two  hundred  and  thirty  thousand,  and  in  1815  at  least 
four  hundred  thousand ;  *  and  that  this  was  not  the  over- 
pouring  of  the  whole  redundant  population  of  the  old  states 
into  one  favorite  resort  of  emigration,  but  that  half  a  dozen 
other  new  states  had  been  growing  up  with  nearly  equal 
rapidity  at  the  same  time,  while  the  old  states  also  had  been 
steadily  on  the  increase.  It  is  not  surprising  that  such  facts, 
told  to  a  community  whose  population  is  nearly  stationary, 
should  scarcely  gain  credence. 

Such  was  the  impression  produced  by  the  condition  of 
your  state  in  1815.  The  next  time  my  attention  was  more 
particularly  called  to  the  subject  was  about  two  years  since, 
by  another  interesting  work,  the  well-known  pamphlet, 
entitled  "  Cincinnati  in  1826,"  in  which  some  general  views 
are  given  of  the  progress  of  Ohio.  From  this  it  appeared, 
that  in  the  interval  between  the  two  publications,  new  won- 
ders of  advancement  had  been  made  ;  and  further  strides  had 
been  taken,  astonishing  even  to  the  eye  familiarized  to  the 
improvements  by  which  you  are  surrounded.  In  this  short 
period,  regular  communications  by  stage-coaches  had  been 
established  ;  the  National  Road  had  entered  your  limits ;  your 
rivers  had  become  thronged  with  steamboats  ;  and  your  popu- 
lation had  doubled.  But  your  progress  did  not  stop  at  this 
period.  On  the  contrary,  it  now  received  perhaps  its  most 
powerful  stimulus.  Your  canal  policy  —  the  glory  and  pros- 

*  In  1840,  the  population  of  Ohio  was  1,519,467. 


SPEECH    AT    THE    YELLOW    SPRINGS.  209 

per ity  of  the  state  —  had  been  determined  upon,  and  a  com- 
mencement made  in  its  vigorous  execution.  In  the  latest 
publications  relative  to  your  state,  particularly  in  "  The  Geog- 
raphy and  the  History  of  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,"  the 
still  more  rapid  progress  produced  by  this  new  stimulus  is 
indicated.  But  even  this  does  not  bring  it  down  to  the 
present  hour.  On  the  points  where  the  system  of  communi- 
cation is  complete,  the  effect  has  been  magical.  The  popula- 
tion of  Cincinnati,  by  accurate  estimate,  has  risen  since  1825 
from  sixteen  to  twenty-five  thousand ;  and,  as  I  have  been 
informed,  on  the  best  authority,  an  increase  in  the  value  of 
its  real  property  has  taken  place  equal  to  the  whole  expense 
of  the  Miami  Canal.  But  no  book  can  describe  your  state 
farther  down  than  to  the  moment  when  it  is  written.  Its 
condition  changes,  while  the  geographer  is  casting  up  the 
figures  that  represent  it.  As  well  might  you,  by  the  theo- 
retical rules  of  navigation,  attempt  to  designate  the  position 
of  a  steamboat  on  the  Ohio,  when  it  is  swollen  by  the  floods 
of  spring.  While  you  are  fixing  your  quadrant,  the  boat 
is  swept  downwards  for  miles  on  the  bosom  of  the  rushing 
stream. 

These  and  similar  facts,  sir,  would  the  less  merit  frequent 
repetition,  were  the  rapid  progress  of  the  country  occasioned 
merely  by  the  abundance  of  fertile  land,  operating  as  a  temp- 
tation to  the  adventurer  in  search  of  fortune.  But  when  we 
contrast  the  progress  of  the  Western  States  of  our  Union 
with  that  of  the  British  possessions  in  their  immediate  neigh- 
borhood, we  see  that  other  causes  have  been  at  work  to  pro- 
duce this  unparalleled  state  of  things.  It  is  well  known  that 
the  British  government  has  held  out  very  strong  temptations 
to  persons  disposed  to  emigrate  to  its  North  American  posses- 
sions. The  expense  of  crossing  the  ocean  has  been  defrayed, 
grants  of  land  have  been  made,  freedom  from  taxes  guaran- 
tied, and  implements  of  husbandry  furnished,  (if  we  are  not 
misinformed,)  at  the  public  expense.  Some  portion  of  the 
land  itself,  in  those  possessions,  for  natural  fertility,  climate, 
and  geographical  position,  is  equal  to  any  part  of  the  Western 
VOL.  i.  27 


210  SPEECH    AT    THE    YELLOW    SPRINGS. 

States.  But  while  some  of  those  states  have  been  adding  to 
their  numbers  from  thirty  to  one  hundred  thousand  inhabit- 
ants yearly,  it  has  been  publicly  stated,  of  late,  by  an  inhab- 
itant of  Upper  Canada,  that  the  increase  of  that  province, 
emigration  included,  has  not  for  ten  years  exceeded  four 
thousand  five  hundred  per  annum. 

We  learn,  from  this  contrast,  that  the  growth  of  your 
v,  astern  country  is  not  merely  the  progress  of  its  citizens  in 
numerical  multiplication.  It  is  civilization  personified  and 
embodied,  going  forth  to  take  possession  of  the  land.  Tt  is 
the  principle  of  our  institutions,  advancing  not  so  much  with 
the  toilsome  movement  of  human  agency,  but  rather  like  the 
grand  operations  of  sovereign  Providence.  It  seems  urged 
along  its  stupendous  course,  as  the  earth  itself  is  propelled  in 
its  orbit,  silent  and  cairn,  like  the  moving  planet,  with  a  speed 
we  cannot  measure  ;  yet  not,  like  that,  without  a  monument 
to  mark  its  way  through  the  vacant  regions  of  space,  but 
scattering  hamlets,  and  villages,  and  cities  on  its  path,  —  the 
abodes  of  civilized  and  prosperous  millions. 

The  ties  of  interest  which  connect  all  the  states  of  this 
Union  are  innumerable ;  and  those  of  mutual  good  will  are 
destined,  I  trust,  to  add  all  their  strength  to  the  compact.  It 
ought  to  be  the  desire  and  the  effort  of  every  true  patriot  to 
merge  in  one  comprehensive  feeling  all  discordant  sectional 
preferences.  But  the  circumstances  of  first  settlement  and 
geographical  proximity  will  produce  associations  not  incon- 
sistent with  the  one  great  principle  of  union,  and  resting  on 
a  basis  too  natural  to  be  discredited.  It  cannot  be  expected 
that  New  England  and  the  Middle  States  should  not  feel 
complacency  in  reflecting  that  the  foundations  of  Ohio  were 
laid  by  some  of  their  citizens — that  the  germs  of  your  growth 
were  derived  from  our  soil.  Acknowledging  the  high  traits 
of  character  to  be  found  in  the  various  strongly-marked 
sections  of  the  country,  we  cannot  be  insensible  to  the  pre- 
vailing affinity  between  your  population  and  ours.  In  the 
leading  characteristics  of  society  here  we  recognize  the  quali- 
ties to  which  we  have  been  familiarized  at  home.  While  we 


SPEECH    AT    THE    YELLOW    SPRINGS.  211 

witness  your  auspicious  progress,  we  take  pride  in  reflecting 
that  it  is  the  extension  of  our  own  immediate  kindred  —  the 
ripening  of  a  fruit  which  our  fathers  planted. 

Nor  is  this  similarity  confined  to  things  of  a  superficial 
nature,  belonging  rather  to  the  province  of  manners  than  in- 
stitutions. In  many  concerns  of  highest  moment,  and  partic- 
ularly in  the  system  of  public  schools  commenced  in  Ohio, 
we  behold  an  assurance  that  your  vast  community  is  destined 
to  grow  up  into  a  still  nearer  resemblance  of  what  we  deem 
the  best  feature  of  ours.  Regarding  the  mind  of  the  citizens 
as  the  most  precious  part  of  the  public  capital,  we  have  felt 
that  an  efficient  plan  of  general  education  is  one  of  the  first 
elements  of  public  wealth.  The  diffusion  of  intelligence  has 
furnished  us  our  best  compensation  for  our  narrow  limits  and 
moderately  fertile  soil ;  and  the  tax  which  has  effected  it  has 
returned  with  the  richest  interest  to  the  citizens.  We  rejoice 
to  see  you  adopting  the  same  policy,  and  providing  for  a  pos- 
terity instructed  in  the  necessary  branches  of  useful  knowl- 
edge. Such  a  policy,  besides  all  its  other  benefits,  binds  the 
different  members  of  the  body  politic  by  the  strongest  ties. 
It  lays  the  rich  under  contribution  for  the  education  of  the 
poor ;  and  it  places  the  strong  watchman  of  public  intelli- 
gence and  order  at  the  door  of  the  rich.  In  the  first  adoption 
of  such  a  system,  difficulties  are  to  be  expected  ;  it  cannot  go 
equally  well  into  operation  in  every  quarter ;  perhaps  not  per- 
fectly in  any  quarter.  But  the  man,  or  the  body  of  men, 
that  shall  effectually  introduce  it,  will  perform  a  work  of  pub- 
lic utility,  of  which  the  blessing  and  the  praise  will  never  die. 

It  has  been  frequently  remarked  that  our  beloved  country 
is  set  up,  by  Providence,  as  a  great  exemplar  to  the  world, 
from  which  the  most  enlightened  and  best  governecT  of  the 
ancient  nations  have  much  to  learn.  When  we  think  how 
recently  our  continent  itself  was  discovered,  that  almost  ever 
since  it  has  been  subjected  to  foreign  rule,  and  left  unshielded, 
to  receive  every  impression  that  could  be  stamped  on  it  by 
foreign  ascendency,  we  must  feel  that  it  is  extraordinary  that 
we  have  been  able  to  constitute  ourselves  an  acknowledged 


212  SPEECH    AT    THE    YELLOW    SPRINGS. 

subject  of  envy  and  imitation  to  all  the  communities  on 
earth.  But  when  we  of  the  old  states  turn  our  attention  to 
the  spectacle  beneath  our  eyes  at  home,  we  are  astonished  to 
find  that  our  comparatively  ancient  commonwealths,  monitors 
as  we  deemed  them  in  the  great  school  of  improvement,  are 
obliged  to  come  in  turn  and  take  a  most  important  lesson 
from  you.  In  your  great  works  of  internal  improvement,  — 
in  the  two  canals,  one  of  which  you  have  completed,  and  the 
other  of  which  you  are  pushing  to  its  completion,  at  large 
public  expense  and  under  circumstances  requiring  no  ordinary 
measure  of  legislative  courage,  —  you  are  setting  an  example 
to  the  oldest  states  of  the  confederacy.  Forty  years  since, 
and  the  only  white  population  connected  with  Ohio  was  on 
its  way,  in  a  single  wagon,  from  Massachusetts  to  this  place.* 

*  The  reference  is  to  an  incident,  alluded  to  in  the  following  manner,  in 
a  speech  of  the  author,  at  the  celebration  of  the  second  centennial  anniver- 
sary of  the  settlement  of  Salem,  18th  September,  1828:  — 

"  But,  sir,  while  on  this  happy  occasion  we  contemplate,  with  mingled 
feelings  of  pride  and  joy,  the  lovely  and  august  form  of  our  America,  rising 
as  it  were  from  the  waves  of  the  ocean,  with  the  grace  of  youth  in  all  her 
steps,  and  the  heaven  of  liberty  in  her  eye,  there  is  another  aspect,  under 
which  we  are  led  by  natural  association  to  regard  her,  as  we  consider  the 
family  of  republics  which  have  sprung  into  being  beyond  the  mountains. 
The  graceful  and  lovely  daughter  has  become  the  mother  of  rising  states. 
While  our  thoughts,  on  this  day,  are  carried  back  to  the  tombs  of  our  fathers 
beyond  the  sea,  there  are  millions  of  kindred  Americans  beyond  the  rivers 
and  mountains,  whose  hearts  are  fixed  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  as  the  cradle 
of  their  political  existence.  If  the  states  of  the  coast  were  struck  from 
existence,  they  would  already  have  performed  their  share  of  the  great  duty, 
as  it  has  been  called,  of  social  transmission.  A  mighty  wilderness  has 
been  colonized,  almost  within  our  own  day,  by  the  young  men  of  the  Atlan- 
tic coast;  not  driven  by  the  arm  of  persecution  from  the  land  of  their  birth, 
but  parting,  with  tearful  eyes,  from  their  pleasant  homes,  to  follow  the 
guiding  hand  of  Providence  to  the  western  realms  of  promise. 

"  It  is  just  forty  years  this  summer,  since  a  long,  ark-like  looking  wagon 
vras  seen  traversing  the  roads,  and  winding  through  the  villages  of  Essex 
and  Middlesex,  covered  with  black  canvas,  inscribed  on  the  outside,  in 
large  letters, '  To  Marietta,  on  the  Ohio.'  That  expedition,  under  Dr  Cutler, 
of  this  neighborhood,  was  the  first  germ  of  the  settlement  of  Ohio,  which 
now  contains  near  a  million  of  inhabitants.  Forty  years  have  scarce  passed 
by,  since  this  great  state,  with  all  its  settlements,  improvements,  its  mighty 


SPEECH    AT    THE    YELLOW    SPRINGS.  213 

You  have  now  a  system  of  artificial  navigation  of  nearly  four 
hundred  miles,  rapidly  advancing  to  its  completion ;  while 
the  Massachusetts  railroad  is  still  locked  up  in  the  portfolio 
of  the  commissioners  who  have  surveyed  the  route.  It  is, 
however,  one  of  the  happy  effects  of  our  separation  into  dif- 
ferent states,  that  it  gives  scope  for  a  generous  emulation,  in 
objects  of  public  utility.  It  is  hardly  to  be  believed,  that  the 
ancient  settlements  on  the  coast  will  consent  to  be  long  be- 
hind the  younger  states  of  the  west  in  the  march  of  improve- 
ment ;  or  fearful,  with  their  abundant  capital,  to  commence 
those  great  public  enterprises  which  have  not  been  found 
beyond  the  reach  of  your  infant  resources.  Happy  the 
region  where  such  are  the  objects  of  competition  between 
neighboring  states ! 

Permit  me,  in  conclusion,  gentlemen,  to  revert  to  the  idea 
with  which  I  commenced  —  the  marvellous  progress  of  the 
west.  The  settlement  of  Ohio  and  the  other  north-western 
states  may  be  considered  as  dating  from  the  ordinance  of 
1787.  The  individual  who  drew  that  ever-memorable  statute 
is  still  living,  a  most  respected  citizen  and  eminent  jurist  of 
Massachusetts  —  Nathan  Dane.  Of  those  also  who  first  emi- 
grated to  this  region,  and  encountered  the  hardships  of  the 
wilderness,  and  the  perils  of  the  savage  foe,  all  have  not 
passed  away.  What  events  have  been  crowded  into  the  lives 
of  such  men  !  It  is  only  when  we  consider  what  they  found 
the  country,  and  what  they  handed  it  down  to  this  genera- 
tion, that  we  learn  the  efficacy  of  public  and  private  virtue, 

canals  and  growing  population,  was  covered  up  (if  I  may  so  say)  under 
the  canvas  of  Dr  Cutler's  wagon.  Not  a  half  century,  and  a  state  is  in 
existence,  (twice  as  large  as  our  old  Massachusetts,)  to  whom  not  Old  Eng- 
land, but  New  England,  is  the  land  of  ancestral  recollection.  Yes,  sir,  on 
richer  soils  and  broader  plains  than  ours,  there  is  a  large  community  of  men, 
to  whom  our  rocks  and  our  sands  will  be  forever  dear.  Ten  years  ago, 
there  were  thirteen  or  fourteen  settlements  west  of  the  Alleghanies,  bearing 
the  name  of  Salem,  the  city  of  peace ;  one  in  Kentucky,  one  in  Indiana, 
eight  or  nine  in  Ohio,  all  bearing  the  name  of  the  spot  where  we  are  now 
assembled  —  where  the  fathers  of  Massachusetts  first  set  foot,  two  hundred 
veara  ago." 


214     SPEECH  AT  THE  YELLOW  SPRINGS. 

of  wise  counsel,  of  simple  manners,  of  frugal  habits,  and  an 
inborn  love  of  liberty  !  But  I  forbear,  sir,  to  enlarge  on  con- 
siderations so  familiar  to  this  respected  company,  and  only 
ask  permission,  in  conclusion,  to  propose  the  following  sen- 
timent :  — 

THE  STATE  OF  OHIO:  —  FOUNDED  BY  THE  VIRTUES  OF 
THE  LAST  GENERATION,  SUSTAINED  BY  THE  PUBLIC  SPIRIT  CF 
THIS,  ITS  PROSPERITY  IS  SURE. 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OP    MASSACHUSETTS.* 


THIS  day  completes  the  second  century  since  Governor 
Winthrop  explored  the  banks  of  the  Mystic  River.f  From 
his  arrival  at  Charlestown,  accompanied  by  a  large  number 
of  settlers,  furnished  with  a  supply  of  every  thing  necessary 
for  the  foundation  of  the  colony,  and  especially,  bringing 
with  them  the  colonial  charter,  may,  with  great  propriety,  be 
dated  the  foundation  of  Massachusetts,  and  in  it  that  of  New 
England.  There  are  other  interesting  events  in  our  early 
history,  which  have  in  like  manner  been  justly  commemorat- 
ed, for  their  connection  with  the  same  great  era.  The  land- 
ing of  the  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth  has  been  regarded,  from  the 
first,  as  a  period  from  which  we  may  with  propriety  date  the 
settlement  of  New  England ;  and  has  been  celebrated  with 
every  demonstration  of  pious  and  grateful  respect.  The 
completion  of  the  second  century,  from  the  arrival  of  Gov- 
ernor Endecott  at  Salem,  was  noticed  two  years  since,  by  our 
fellow-citizens  of  that  place,  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  in- 
terest and  magnitude  of  the  event ;  and  the  anniversary  of 
the  settlement  of  Boston  is  reserved  for  a  like  celebration,  in 
the  autumn  of  the  present  year. 

Were  these  celebrations  a  matter  of  mere  ceremonial  ob- 
servance, their  multiplication  would  be  idle  and  oppressive. 
But  they  are  all  consecrated  to  events  of  real  interest.  They 
have  a  tendency  to  extend  the  knowledge  of  the  early  history 

*  Address  delivered  before  the  Charlestown  Lyceum,  on  the  28th  of 
June,  1830,  the  anniversary  of  the  arrival  of  Governor  Winthrop. 

t  The  proper  equivalent  of  17th  June,  1630,  old  style,  is  27th  June,  1630, 
new  style;  sne  the  last  paragraph  of  note  A,  p.  183 

(215) 


216       THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

of  the  country.  They  are  just  tributes  to  the  memory  of 
worthy  men,  to  whom  we  are  under  everlasting  obligations. 
They  furnish  fit  occasions  for  inculcating  the  great  principles 
which  led  to  the  settlement  of  our  country  ;  and,  by  connect- 
ing some  interesting  associations  with  the  spots  familiar  to  us 
by  daily  visitation,  they  remind  us  that  there  is  something 
worthy  4o  be  commemorated  in  the  soil  which  we  inhabit ; 
and  thus  furnish  food  for  an  enlightened  patriotism.  The 
character  of  our  government  has  made  this  the  chief  means 
of  perpetuating,  by  sensible  memorials,  the  fame  of  ex- 
cellent men  and  great  achievements.  Wisely  discarding 
those  establishments  which  have  connected  with  hereditary 
possessions  in  the  soil,  and  transmissible  dignities  in  the 
state,  the  name  and  family  of  discoverers  and  conquerors,  it 
has  been,  with  us.  left  to  the  affection  and  patriotism  by 
which  the  observance  of  these  occasions  is  prompted,  to  pre- 
serve the  worth  of  our  forefathers  from  forgetfulness. 

For  these  considerations,  it  was  thought  expedient  by  the 
members  of  the  Charlestown  Lyceum,  that  the  arrival  of 
Governor  Winthrop  on  our  shores,  with  the  charter  of  the 
colony,  should  not  pass  unnoticed.  When  I  was  first  request- 
ed to  deliver  an  address  on  the  occasion,  it  was  my  expecta- 
tion that  it  would  be  done  with  no  greater  publicity  than  that 
with  which  the  lectures  before  this  institution  have  been 
usually  delivered.  The  event,  however,  has  been  considered  as 
of  sufficient  importance  to  receive  a  more  public  notice  ;  and 
in  this  opinion  of  the  members  of  the  Charlestown  Lyceum, 
and  our  fellow-citizens  who  unite  with  them,  I  have  cheer- 
fully acquiesced.  It  will  not,  however,  be  expected  of  me 
wholly  to  abandon  the  form  which  my  address,  in  its  origin, 
was  intended  to  assume,  although  less  adapted  than  I  could 
wish  to  the  character  of  this  vast  audience  before  which  I 
have  the  honor  to  appear. 

In  performing  the  duty  which  devolves  upon  me,  in  conse- 
quence of  this  arrangement,  I  propose  briefly  to  narrate  the 
history  of  the  event  which  we  celebrate,  and  then  to  dwell 
on  some  of  the  general  topics  which  belong  to  the  day  and 
the  occasion. 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.        217 

When  America  was  discovered,  the  great  and  interesting 
questions  presented  themselves,  What  right  had  the  European 
discoverers  in  the  new-found  continent  ?  and  in  what  way 
were  its  settlement  and  colonization  to  proceed  ? 

The  first  discovery  was  made  under  the  auspices  of  Eu- 
ropean governments,  which  admitted  the  right  of  the  head 
of  the  Catholic  church  to  dispose  of  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth  ;  and,  of  course,  of  all  newly-discovered  regions  which 
had  not  before  been  appropriated.  This  right  of  the  head  of 
the  Catholic  church  was  recognized  by  Protestant  princes 
only-  so  far  as  it  might  be  backed  by  that  of  actual  discovery ; 
and  although  the  kings  of  Spain  and  Portugal  had  received 
from  the  pope  a  distributive  grant  of  all  the  newly-discovered 
countries  on  the  globe,  the  sovereign  of  England  claimed  the 
right  of  making  his  own  discoveries,  and  appropriating  them 
as  he  pleased  to  the  benefit  of  his  own  subjects  and  govern- 
ment. Under  this  claim,  and  in  consequence  of  the  discov- 
eries of  Cabot,  our  mother  country  invested  herself  with  this 
great  and  ultimate  right  of  disposing  of  the  American  conti- 
nent, from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  northwardly,  till  it  reached 
the  limits  covered  by  the  like  claim  of  actual  discovery  on 
the  part  of  other  governments.* 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  enter  into  the  discussion  of  the 
nature  and  extent  of  this  right  of  discovery.  If  we  admit 
that  it  was  the  will  of  Providence,  and  for  the  interest  of 
humanity,  that  America  should  be  settled  by  a  civilized  race 
of  men,  we  admit,  at  the  same  time,  a  perfect  right,  in  some 
way  or  other,  to  effect  that  settlement.  And  though  it  may 
be  out  of  our  power  to  remove  all  the  difficulties  which 
attend  the  question,  —  although  we  cannot,  perhaps,  on  the 
received  principles  of  natural  law,  theoretically  reconcile  the 
previous  rights  of  the  aboriginal  population  with  the  accruing 
rights  of  the  discoverers  and  settlers,  —  yet  we  must  either 
allow  that  those  rights  are  not,  upon  the  whole,  irreconcilable, 
or  we  must  maintain  that  it  was  the  will  of  Providence,  and 

*  Opinion  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  the  case  of 
Johnson  &  Graham's  Lessees  vs.  Mclntosh,  8th  Wheaton. 

VOL.  t  28 


218       THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

for  the  greatest  good  of  mankind,  that  America  should  remain 
ill  the  condition  in  which  the  discoverers  found  it. 

No  judicious  person,  at  the  present  day,  will  maintain  this ; 
and  no  such  opinion  was  entertained  by  the  governments  of 
Europe,  nor  by  the  enterprising,  patriotic,  and  liberal  men  on 
whom  it  devolved  to  deal  practically  with  this  great  subject. 
How  great  it  was,  it  is  true,  they  did  not  feel ;  as  we,  with  a 
like  subject  thrown  practically  into  our  hands, — I  mean  the 
settlement  of  our  own  vacant  public  domain,  —  are  equally 
insensible  to  its  importance.  Although  there  is  a  great  lodg- 
ment of  civilized  men  on  this  continent,  which  is  rapidly 
extending  itself,  yet  there  is  still  a  vast  region  wholly  unset- 
tled, and  presenting  very  nearly  the  same  aspect  to  us  which 
the  whole  North  American  continent  did  to  our  forefathers  in 
Great  Britain.  But  no  man,  I  think,  who  analyzes  either  the 
popular  sentiment  of  this  community,  or  the  legislative  policy 
of  this  government,  will  deny  that  the  duty  to  be  performed 
by  the  people  of  this  generation,  in  reference  to  these  unset- 
tled regions  of  our  country,  has  scarce  ever  presented  itself 
in  its  magnitude,  grandeur,  and  solemnity,  to  the  minds 
either  of  people  or  of  rulers.  It  was  justly  remarked,  more 
than  once  this  winter,  in  the  great  debate  in  the  Senate  of 
the  United  States,  nominally  on  the  subject  of  the  public 
domain,  that  this  subject  was  the  only  one  not  glanced  at  in 
the  discussion ;  and  that  subject,  I  may  say  without  fear  of 
contradiction,  is  as  important  to  the  people  of  the  United 
States,  and  to  the  cause  of  liberty  throughout  the  world,  as 
the  question  of  colonizing  America,  which  presented  itself 
to  the  nations  and  governments  of  Europe  in  the  fifteenth 
and  sixteenth  centuries. 

These  questions  are  never  comprehended  till  it  is  too  late. 
Experience  alone  unfolds  their  magnitude.  We  may  strain 
our  minds  to  grasp  them,  but  they  are  beyond  our  power. 
There  is  no  political  calculus  which  can  deal  with  the  vast 
elements  of  a  nation's  growth.  Providence,  or  destiny,  or 
the  order  of  things,  in  which,  while  we  think  ourselves  the 
agents,  we  are  humble  instruments,  —  aided  by  some  high 
impulses  from  the  minds  and  hearts  of  wise  and  great  men, 


TH.E    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASS ACHtt  SETTS.        219 

catching  a  prophetic  glimpse  of  the  future  fortunes  of  our 
race,  —  these  decide  the  progress  of  nations,  and  sometimes 
educe  consequences  the  most  stupendous  from  causes  seem- 
ingly least  proportionate  to  the  effect. 

But  though  we  do  not  find  any  traces  in  the  public  senti- 
ment, or  in  the  legislation  of  Europe,  in  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries,  of  an  accurate  foresight  of  the  great 
work  which  that  age  was  called  upon  to  perform,  yet  there 
was  unquestionably  a  distinct  perception  that  the  enclosure 
of  the  civilized  families  of  the  earth  had  been  suddenly  en- 
larged. Spain  and  Portugal  poured  themselves  forth  impetu- 
ously into  the  new-found  region ;  and  Great  Britain,  though 
with  something  of  a  constitutional  tardiness,  followed  the 
example. 

The  first  British  patents,  for  the  settlement  of  the  discov- 
eries on  the  North  American  continent,  were  those  of  Sir 
Humphrey  Gilbert  and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  in  the  latter  quar- 
ter of  the  sixteenth  century.  These  and  some  similar  grants 
were  vacated,  from  inability  to  fulfil  their  conditions  ;  or  from 
other  causes,  failed  to  take  permanent  effect.  When  Queen 
Elizabeth  died,  in  1603,  not  a  European  family  was  known  to 
exist  on  the  continent  of  North  America,  north  of  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico.  On  the  tenth  of  April,  1606,  King  James  granted 
a  patent,  dividing  that  portion  of  North  America  which  lies 
between  the  thirty-fourth  and  forty-fifth  degrees  of  latitude, 
into  two  nearly  equal  districts.  The  southern,  called  the  first 
colony,  he  granted  to  the  London  Company.  The  northern, 
called  the  second  colony,  he  granted  to  the  Plymouth  Com- 
pany ;  and  allotted  it,  as  a  place  of  settlement,  to  several 
knights,  gentlemen,  and  merchants  of  Bristol,  Plymouth,  and 
other  parts  of  the  west  of  England.  This  patent  conveyed 
a  grant  of  the  property  of  the  land  along  the  coast,  for  fifty 
miles,  on  each  side  from  the  place  of  their  first  habitation, 
and  extending  one  hundred  miles  into  the  interior. 

Under  these  charters,  various  attempts  at  colonization  and 
settlement  were  made,  and,  at  first,  with  very  doubtful  suc- 
cess, by  the  Virginia  Company.  These,  of  course,  it  is  no 
part  of  our  present  business  to  pursue.  In  1614,  the  adven- 


220       THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

turous  Captain  Smith,  famous  in  his  connection  with  the 
settlement  of  Virginia,  was  sent  out  by  four  individuals  in 
England,  who  were  disposed  to  engage  in  an  enterprise  on 
these  distant  shores,  to  explore  the  coast  of  North  Virginia. 
He  arrived  on  the  coast  of  Maine  at  the  end  of  April,  1614; 
and  in  the  course  of  the  following  summer,  he  visited  the 
north-eastern  shores  of  America,  from  the  Penobscot  River  to 
Cape  Cod  ;  entered  and  examined  the  rivers,  surveyed  the 
country,  and  carried  on  a  trade  with  the  natives.  Having, 
on  his  return  to  England,  constructed,  from  his  surveys,  a 
mar  'tf  the  country,  it  was  submitted  to  Prince  Charles,  who 
gave  the  name  of  New  England  to  the  region  explored  by 
Smith,  and  bestowed  his  own  name  on  what  was  then  sup- 
posed to  be  its  principal  river.  The  season  in  which  Captain 
Smith  visited  the  country,  is  that  in  which  it  appears  in  its 
greatest  beauty.  His  account  of  it  was  such  as  to  excite  the 
attention  and  kindle  the  imagination  of  men  in  England  ; 
and  the  profitable  returns  of  his  voyage  united  with  these 
impressions  to  strengthen  the  disposition  which  was  felt  to 
colonize  the  newly-explored  region.  Several  attempts  were 
accordingly  made,  to  that  end,  for  the  benefit  and  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Plymouth  Company,  but  all  without  success. 
The  great  enterprise  was  reserved  to  be  accomplished  by  a 
very  different  instrumentality. 

In  1617,  the  church  of  Mr  Robinson,  at  Leyden,  had  come 
to  the  resolution  of  exiling  themselves  to  the  American  wil- 
derness. As  the  principal  attempts  at  settlement  had  been 
made  in  the  southern  colony,  or  Virginia,  their  thoughts  were 
turned  to  that  quarter,  and  they  sent  two  of  their  number  to 
London,  to  negotiate  with  the  Virginia  Company  on  the  terms 
of  their  settlement,  and  to  ascertain  whether  liberty  of  con- 
science would  be  allowed  them  in  the  new  country.  The 
Virginia  Company  was  disposed  to  grant  them  a  patent,  with 
as  ample  privileges  as  it  was  in  their  power  to  convey. 
The  king,  however,  could  not  be  induced  to  patronize  the 
design,  and  promised  only  a  connivance  in  it  so  long  as  they 
demeaned  themselves  peaceably.  In  1619,  the  arrangement 
was  finally  made  with  the  Virginia  Company;  and  in  the 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.         221 

following  year,  the  ever-memorable  emigration  to  Plymouth 
took  place.  In  consequence  of  the  treacherous  and  secret 
interference  of  the  Dutch,  who  had  their  own  designs  upon 
that  part  of  the  coast  which  had  been  explored  by  Hudson, 
the  captain  of  the  vessel  which  transported  the  first  company 
to  America  conveyed  them  to  a  place  without  the  limits  of 
the  patent  of  the  Virginia  Company,  and  where,  of  course,  the 
Pilgrims  were  set  down  beyond  the  protection  of  any  grant 
and  the  pale  of  any  law.  In  three  or  four  years,  a  patent  was 
obtained  of  the  Plymouth  Company,  and  on  this  sole  basis 
the  first  New  England  settlement  rested,  till  its  incorporation 
with  the  colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay. 

In  the  year  1620,  the  old  patent  of  the  Plymouth  Company 
was  revoked,  and  a  new  one  was  granted  to  some  of  the 
highest  nobility  and  gentry  of  England,  and  their  associates, 
constituting  them  and  their  successors  "  the  council  estab- 
lished at  Plymouth,  in  the  county  of  Devon,  for  the  planting, 
ruling,  ordering,  and  governing  of  New  England  in  America." 
By  this  patent,  that  part  of  America  which  lies  between  the 
fortieth  and  forty-eighth  degrees  of  north  latitude  in  breadth, 
and  in  length  by  all  the  breadth  aforesaid,  throughout  the 
main,  from  sea  to  sea,  was  given  to  them,  in  absolute  prop- 
erty. Civil  and  jurisdicti*>nal  powers,  like  those  which  had 
been  granted  by  the  Virginia  patent,  were  conferred  on  the 
council  established  by  this  charter ;  on  which,  as  on  a  basis, 
rested  all  the  subsequent  patents  and  grants  of  this  portion  of 
the  country.  By  this  grant,  a  considerable  part  of  the  present 
British  colonies  in  North  America;  the  whole  of  the  New 
England  States,  and  of  New  York ;  about  half  of  Pennsyl- 
vania ;  two  thirds  of  New  Jersey  and  Ohio  ;  a  half  of  Indiana 
and  Illinois  ;  the  whole  of  Michigan,  Wisconsin,  and  the  terri- 
tory of  the  United  States  westward  of  them,  and  on  both 
sides  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  from  a  point  considerably 
within  the  Mexican  dominions  on  the  Pacific  Ocean,  nearly 
up  to  Nootka  Sound,  were  liberally  granted  by  King  James 
"  to  the  council  established  at  Plymouth,  in  the  county  of 
Devon." 

From  the  period  of  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims  at  Plyra- 


222        THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

outh,  the  intolerance  of  the  established  church  in  England 
became  daily  more  oppressive.  The  non-conforming  ministers 
were  silenced,  ejected,  and  imprisoned ;  and  numerous  exam- 
ples of  the  extremest  rigor  of  the  law  were  made,  both  of 
them  and  the  laity.  The  extent  to  which  these  severities 
were  carried  may  be  estimated  from  their  amount  in  a  single 
instance.  On  the  impeachment  of  Bishop  Wren,  it  was 
charged  that  during  two  years  and  a  half,  for  which  he 
administered  the  diocese  of  Norwich,  fifty  ministers  were 
deprived  of  their  places,  for  not  complying  with  the  prescribed 
ceremonies,  and  three  thousand  of  the  laity  compelled  to  leave 
the  kingdom. 

These  increasing  severities,  and  the  necessity  under  which 
conscientious  men  were  laid  of  abandoning  their  principles 
or  their  homes,  turned  the  thoughts  of  many  persons  of  con- 
sideration and  property  towards  a  permanent  asylum  in  New 
England.  The  first  steps  were  restrained  and  gradual ;  but 
a  few  years  witnessed  the  fulfilment  of  the  design.  In  1624, 
Mr  White,  of  Dorchester,  in  England,  a  celebrated  non- 
conforming  minister,  induced  a  number  of  merchants  and 
other  gentlemen  to  attempt  another  settlement ;  and  by  their 
contributions,  under  a  license  obtained  from  the  Plymouth 
settlers,  an  establishment  was  commenced  at  Cape  Ann.  The 
care  of  this  establishment  was  the  following  year  committed 
by  the  proprietors  to  Mr  Roger  Conant,  a  person  of  great 
worth,  who  had,  however,  retired  from  the  colony  at  Plym- 
outh. After  a  short  residence  at  Cape  Ann,  Roger  Conant 
removed  a  little  farther  to  the  westward,  and  fixed  upon  a 
place  called  by  the  Indians  Naumkeag,  as  a  mo"e  advanta- 
geous place  of  settlement.  The  accounts  of  this  ^lace  circu- 
lated in  England,  among  those  who  were  maturing  this 
design ;  and  Mr  Conant,  though  deserted  by  almost  all  his 
brethren,  was  induced  by  Mr  White  to  remain  at  Salem,  by 
the  promise  of  procuring  a  patent  and  a  reinforcement  of 
settlers.  Accordingly,  on  the  nineteenth  of  March,  1628, 
an  agreement  was  concluded  between  the  council  of  Plymouth 
and  certain  gentlemen  associated  in  the  neighborhood  of  Dor- 
chester, in  England,  under  the  auspices  of  Mr  White,  of  that 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.        223 

place  ;  and  a  patent  was  conveyed  to  these  associates  of  all 
the  tract  of  country  lying  between  three  miles  north  of  the 
Morrimac  and  three  miles  south  of  Charles  Rivers,  and 
extending  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  These 
associates  were  Sir  Henry  Roswell,  Sir  John  Young,  Thomas 
Southcoat,  John  Humphrey,  John  Endecott,  and  Simon 
Whetcomb  ;  and  the  patent  ran  to  them,  their  heirs  and 
associates. 

Mr  White,  in  pursuit  of  his  project  for  establishing  a  colony 
for  the  non-conformists,  was  in  communication  with  persons 
of  that  description,  in  different  parts  of  England ;  and, 
through  his  agency,  the  six  patentees,  whose  names  I  have 
just  mentioned,  were  brought  into  connection  with  several 
religious  persons  in  London  and  the  neighboring  country, 
who  at  first  associated  with  them,  and  afterwards  purchased 
out  the  right  of  the  three  first  named  of  the  six  patentees.* 
Among  these  new  associates  were  John  Winthrop,  Isaac 
Johnson,  and  Sir  Richard  Saltonstall. 

Thus  reenforced,  the  strength  of  the  company  was  vigor- 
ously bent  upon  the  establishment  of  the  colony  in  New 
England.  They  organized  themselves,  by  choosing  Matthew 
Cradock  governor  of  the  colony,  and  Thomas  Goff  deputy 
governor,  and  eighteen  assistants.  By  this  company,  and  in 
the  course  of  the  same  summer  of  1628,  John  Endecott  was 
sent  over,  with  a  considerable  number  of  planters  and  ser- 
vants, to  "  establish  a  plantation  at  Salem,  to  make  way  for 
settling  the  colony,  and  be  their  agent  to  order  all  affairs,  till 
the  patentees  themselves  should  come."  Endecott  sailed 
from  Weymouth  on  the  twentieth  of  June ;  and  his  first 
letter  to  the  company  in  London  bears  date  thirteenth  Sep- 
tember, 1628. 

In  the  same  year  of  1628,  the  foundation  of  the  town,  of 
Charlestown  was  laid,  under  the  patronage  of  Governor  En- 

*  See  the  detail  in  Governor  Dudley's  most  interesting  letter  to  thd 
Countess  of  Lincoln,  of  12th  March,  1630,  written,  as  he  says,  "rudely, 
naving  yet  no  table  nor  other  room  to  write  in  than  by  the  fireside,  on  my 
knee,  in  this  sharp  winter."  —  Historical  Collections,  First  Series,  Vol 
VIII.  p.  86. 


224        THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

decott,  but  not,  I  apprehend,  by  any  of  the  members  of  his 
party.  As  this  is  a  matter  of  some  local  importance,  I  shall 
dwell  for  a  moment  upon  it.  It  is  well  known  that  Ralph, 
William,  arid  Richard  Sprague,  in  the  course  of  the  summer 
of  1628,  traversed  the  country  between  Salem  and  Charles 
River,  and  made  a  settlement  at  Charlestown  ;  and  it  is  com- 
monly supposed,  that,  as  they  came  from  Salem  with  Gov- 
ernor Endecott's  consent,  they  were'  of  the  company  which 
he  brought  over.* 

On  looking,  however,  into  our  ancient  records,  I  find  the 
following  remark.  After  relating  the  arrival  of  Endecott  at 
Salem,  the  record  goes  on  to  say :  "  Under  whose  wing, 
there  were  a  few,  also,  that  settle  and  plant  up  and  down, 
scattering  in  several  places  of  the  bay ;  where,  though  they 
meet  with  the  dangers,  difficulties,  and  wants  attending  new 
plantations  in  a  solitary  wilderness,  so  far  remote  from  then- 
native  country,  yet  were  they  not  long  without  company  ;  foi 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  came  over  from  England  several  people,  at  their 
own  charges,  and  arrived  at  Salem.  After  which,  people 

came  over  yearly  in  great  numbers  ;  in  years  many 

hundreds  arrived,  and  settled  not  only  in  the  Massachusetts 
Bay,  but  did  suddenly  spread  themselves  into  other  colonies 
also. 

"  Among  those  who  arrived  at  Salem,  at  their  own  charge, 
were  Ralph  Sprague,  with  his  brethren  Richard  and  William, 
who,  with  three  or  four  more,  by  joint  consent  and  approba- 
tion of  Mr  John  Endecott,  governor,  did  the  same  summer  of 
anno  1628  undertake  a  journey  from  Salem,  and  travelled 
the  woods  about  twelve  miles  to  the  westward,  and  lighted  of 
a  place  situate  and  lying  on  the  north  bank  of  Charles  River, 
full  of  Indians,  called  Aberginians.  Their  old  chief  sachem 
being  dead,  his  eldest  son,  by  the  English  called  John  Saga- 
more, was  their  chief ;  a  man  naturally  of  gentle  and  good 


*  "  The  Spragues,  (who  went  thither  [to  Charlestown]  from  Endecott'a 
company  at  Salem.)" —  Winthrop's  Journal,  Savage's  edition,  VoL  I.  p.  53., 
note.  —  And  so  other  writers. 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.         225 

disposition,  by  whose  free  consent  they  settled  about  the  hill 
of  the  same  place,  by  the  natives  called  Mishawum  ;  where 
they  found  one  English  palisadoed  and  thatched  house, 
wherein  lived  Thomas  Walford,  a  smith,  situate  on  the  south 
end  of  the  westernmost  hill  of  the  east  field,  a  little  way  from 
Charles  River  side  ;  and,  upon  surveying,  they  found  it  was  a 
neck  of  land  generally  full  of  stately  timber,  as  was  the 
main,  and  the  land  lying  on  the  east  side  of  the  river  called 
Mistick  River;  (from  the  farm  Mr  Cradock's  servants  had 
planted,  called  Mistick,  which  this  river  led  up  into  ;)  indeed, 
generally,  all  the  country  round  about  was  an  uncouth  wil- 
derness, full  of  timber." 

This  passage  seems  to  establish  the  fact  that  the  three 
SpragUes,  the  founders  of  the  settlement  in  this  place,  were 
not  members  of  Governor  Endecott's  company,  but  independ- 
ent adventurers,  who  came  over  to  Salem  at  their  own  cost. 
They  were  persons  of  character,  substance,  and  enterprise  ; 
excellent  citizens,  generous  public  benefactors,  and  the  heads 
of  a  very  large  and  respectable  family  of  descendants. 

The  patent  from  the  council  of  Plymouth  gave  to  the 
associates  as  good  a  right  to  the  soil  as  the  council  possessed, 
but  no  powers  of  government.  For  this  object,  the  royal 
charter  was  necessary.  An  humble  petition  for  such  a  charter 
was  presented  to  the  king  in  council ;  and  on  the  fourth  of 
March,  1629,  the  charter  passed  the  seals,  confirming  the 
patent  of  the  council  of  Plymouth,  and  creating  the  governor 
and  company  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay,  in  New  England,  a 
body  politic  and  corporate,  in  deed,  fact,  and  name.  By  this 
charter,  the  company  were  empowered  to  elect  forever,  out 
of  the  freemen  of  said  company,  a  governor,  deputy  governor, 
and  eighteen  assistants,  annually,  on  the  fourth  Wednesday 
of  Easter  term,  and  to  make  laws  not  repugnant  to  the  laws 
of  England.* 

At  a  meeting,  or  court,  as  it  was  called,  of  this  company, 
held  at  London,  on  the  thirtieth  of  April  following,  a  form 
of  government  was  adopted  for  the  colony.  By  this  form  of 

*  Hazard's  State  Papers,  Vol.  I.  pp.  239—255. 
VOL.  i.  29 


226        THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

government,  the  direction  of  affairs  was  committed  to  thirteen 
individuals,  to  be  resident  in  the  colony,  one  of  whom  shall 
be  governor.  Mr  Endecott  was,  by  the  same  instrument, 
appointed  governor,  and  six  individuals  were  named  council- 
lors. These  seven  persons  were  authorized  to  choose  three 
more  ;  and  the  remaining  two,  requisite  to  make  up  the 
number  of  twelve,  were  to  be  designated  by  the  old  planters, 
as  they  were  called,  or  persons  who  had  settled  in  New 
England  previous  to  the  Massachusetts  patent ;  and  whose 
rights,  though  not  provided  for  by  that  instrument,  were 
treated  with  tenderness  by  the  patentees.  These  magistrates 
were  to  continue  in  office  one  year.  The  mode  in  which 
their  successors  were  to  be  chosen  is  not  specified  by  this 
form  of  government,  but  was  probably  intended  to  be  the 
same  as  that  observed  in  the  first  election.* 

In  the  course  of  this  summer  of  1629,  six  ships  in  the 
service  of  the  company  sailed  for  the  infant  colony,  carrying 
with  them  an  ample  supply  of  provisions  and  three  hundred 
settlers.  Mr  Francis  Higginson,  who  was  named  first  on  the 
list  of  the  councillors  chosen  by  the  company,  and  the  other 
ministers  sent  out  for  the  spiritual  instruction  of  the  colony, 
embarked  for  Naumkeag,  or  Salem,  in  this  fleet. 

The  position  at  Salem  not  being  thought  adapted  to  become 
the  capital.  Mr  Thomas  Graves,  an  engineer  in  the  service  of 
the  company,  with  about  one  hundred  of  the  company's 
servants  under  his  care,  removed  to  this  place  in  the  course 
of  the  summer  of  1629,  where  the  Spragues  and  their  com- 
panions had  established  themselves  the  year  before  ;  and  at 
this  time,  from  the  name  of  the  river  on  which  it  stands,  they 
called  the  place  Charlestown.f 

Thus  far  the  proceedings  of  the  company  were  conducted 
on  the  footing  of  a  trading  corporation,  organized  in  England, 
for  the  purpose  of  carrying  on  a  commercial  establishment  in 
a  foreign  and  dependent  region.  Whatever  higher  motive 

*  Hazard,  Vol.  I.  p.  263.     From  Massachusetts  Records,  A.  folio  9. 

f  This  event,  and  that  of  the  arrival  of  Governor  Winthrop,  are,  by  a      / 
very  singular  anachronism,  dated,  the  one  in  1628,  and  the  other  in  1629,  m 
our  Charlestown  Records. 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.        22? 

had  been  proposed  to  themselves  by  the  active  promoters  of 
the  colony,  the  royal  government  of  Great  Britain,  in  grant- 
ing the  charter  of  the  company,  had  probably  no  design  to 
lay  the  foundation  of  a  new  commonwealth  established  on 
principles  at  war  with  those  of  the  mother  country.  But 
larger  designs  were  entertained  on  the  part  of  some  of  the 
high-minded  men  who  engaged  in  the  undertaking.  The 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  oppression  of  the  times  had  now 
reached  that  point  of  intolerable  severity  to  which  the  evils 
of  humanity  are  sometimes  permitted  to  extend  when  Provi- 
dence designs  to  apply  to  them  a  great  and  strange  remedy. 
It  was  at  this  time,  to  all  appearance,  the  reluctant  but  delib- 
erate conviction  of  the  thinking  part  of  the  community  — 
of  that  great  class  in  society  which  constitutes  the  strength 
of  England  as  of  America  —  that  Old  England  had  ceased  to 
be  a  land  for  men  of  moderate  private  fortunes  to  live  in. 
Society  was  tending  rapidly  to  that  disastrous  division  of 
master  and  dependant  which  is  fatal  to  all  classes  of  its 
members.  The  court  was  profligate,  corrupt,  and  arbitrary 
beyond  example,  and  it  remained  to  be  seen  whether  the 
constitution  of  the  government  contained  any  check  on  its 
power  and  caprice.  In  the  "  Considerations  for  the  Planta- 
tion of  New  England"  drawn  up  a  year  or  two  before  by 
those  who  took  the  lead  in  founding  the  colony  of  Massa- 
chusetts Bay,  it  was  forcibly  stated,  "  that  England  grew 
weary  of  her  inhabitants ;  insomuch  that  man,  which  is  the 
most  precious  of  all  creatures,  was  there  more  vile  and  base 
than  the  earth  he  trod  on ;  and  children  and  families  (if 
un  weal  thy)  were  accounted  a  burdensome  encumbrance,  in- 
stead of  the  greatest  blessing." 

From  such  a  state  of  things,  and  in  the  assurance  of  a  per- 
fect remedy  in  New  England  for  some  of  the  evils  which  they 
suffered,  a  considerable  number  of  persons  of  great  respect- 
ability, of  good  fortune,  and  of  consideration  in  society,  came 
to  the  resolution  of  leaving  their  native  land,  and  laying  the 
foundation  of  a  better  social  system  on  these  remote  and 
uninhabited  shores.  As  a  preliminary  to  this,  however,  they 
required  a  total  change  of  the  footing  on  which  the  attempts 


228       THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

at  colonization  had  hitherto  proceeded.  It  fell  far  short  of 
their  purpose  to  banish  themselves  to  the  new  world  as  the 
dependent  servants  of  a  corporation  in  London;  and  they 
required,  as  a  previous  condition,  that  the  charter  of  the 
colony  and  the  seat  of  its  government  should  be  transferred 
from  London  to  America.  This  was  the  turning  point  in  the 
destiny  of  New  England.  Doubting  the  legality  of  such  a 
step,  they  took  the  advice  of  counsel  learned  in  the  law,  and 
from  them  received  the  opinion  that  the  proposed  transfer  of 
the  charter  was  legal.  Against  this  opinion  there  is,  at  the 
present  day,  a  pretty  general  consent  of  the  writers  on 
America,  both  in  England  and  the  United  States ;  and  it  may 
therefore  be  deemed  presumptuous  in  me  to  express  an  oppo- 
site judgment.  But,  though  the  removal  of  the  charter  was 
not  probably  contemplated,  I  find  in  it  no  condition  prescribed, 
that  the  meetings  of  the  corporation,  or  the  place  of  deposit 
of  the  charter  itself,  should  be  in  London,  or  any  other  par- 
ticular place.  The  very  design  for  which  the  charter  was 
granted  to  the  company  implied,  of  course,  the  possibility 
that  a  part  of  the  freemen  that  compose  it  should  reside  in 
New  England ;  and  I  perceive  nothing  in  the  instrument 
forbidding  them  all  to  reside  in  that  part  of  the  king's 
dominions. 

Those  whose  professional  advice  had  been  taken  on  the 
subject  of  removing  the  charter,  having  decided  in  favor  of 
the  legality  of  that  measure,  its  expediency  was  submitted, 
at  a  court  of  the  company  held  at  London,  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  July,  1629 ;  and  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  August, 
after  hearing  the  reports  of  two  committees,  raised  to  consider 
the  arguments  for  and  against  the  removal,  it  was,  by  the 
generality  of  the  company  voted,  that  the  patent  and  govern- 
ment of  the  company  be  transferred  to  New  England.  At  a 
subsequent  meeting,  held  October  twentieth,  "the  court 
having  received  extraordinary  great  commendation  of  Mr 
John  Winthrop,  both  for  his  integrity  and  sufficiency,  as 
being  one  very  well  fitted  for  the  place,  with  a  full  consent 
choose  him  governor  for  the  ensuing  year,  to  begin  this  day." 
On  the  same  day  the  deputy  governor  and  assistants  were 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.        229 

shosen,  of  persons  at  that  time  purposing  to  emigrate,  some 
of  whom,  however,  never  executed  this  design. 

John  Winthrop  was  a  gentleman  of  good  fortune,  and  was 
born  at  Groton,  in  the  county  of  Suffolk,  on  the  twelfth  of 
January,  1587,*  and  was  educated  by  his  father,  who  was 
himself  eminent  for  skill  in  the  law,  to  that  profession.  John 
Winthrop  was  so  early  distinguished  for  his  gravity,  intelli- 
gence, and  learning,  that  he  was  introduced  into  the  magis- 
tracy of  his  county  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  and  acquitted 
himself  with  great  credit  in  the  discharge  of  its  duties. 

His  family  had,  for  two  generations  at  least,  distinguished 
itself  for  its  attachment  to  the  reformed  religion ;  and  John 
Winthrop  was  of  that  class  of  the  English  church  who 
thought  that  the  work  had  not  all  been  accomplished  in 
throwing  off  their  allegiance  to  Rome.  I  believe  we  have 
no  account  of  the  circumstances  by  which  he  was  first  led  to 
take  an  interest  in  the  settlement  of  New  England ;  nor  does 
his  name  occur  in  connection  with  the  early  history  of  th 
colony,  till  we  find  it  mentioned  among  those  who,  in  1628, 
united  themselves  with  the  Dorchester  adventurers.  Having 
been,  in  October,  1629,  elected  governor  of  the  new  colony,  — 
for  such  it  is  henceforward  to  be  regarded, — he  prepared  him- 
self to  enter  on  this  great  enterprise  by  disposing  of  his 
patrimony  in  England,  which  was  valued  at  a  rent  of  six  or 
seven  hundred  pounds  sterling  per  annum.  The  feelings 
with  which  he  addressed  himself  to  the  noble  work  may  be 
partly  conceived  from  the  nature  of  the  enterprise  and  the 
character  of  the  man,  and  they  are  more  fully  set  forth  in  his 
most  admirable  letters  to  his  wife  and  son,  with  which  the 
world  has  lately  been  favored. 

On  the  twenty-second  of  March,  1629,  we  find  the  gov- 
ernor, with  two  of  his  sons,  on  board  a  vessel  at  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  bound  for  America,  with  Dudley,  the  deputy  governor, 
and  several  of  the  assistants,  and  with  a  large  number  of 

*  Mather  says  June.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  this,  with  numerous 
other  errors,  which  have  exposed  Mather  to  severe  reprehension,  on  the 
score  of  inaccuracy,  was  a  misprint  arising  from  the  circumstance,  that 
his  work  was  printed  in  London,  and  consequently  not  corrected  by  him. 


230       THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

emigrants,  embarked  in  a  fleet  which,  with  the  vessels  that 
preceded  and  followed  them,  the  same  season,  amounted  in 
the  whole  to  seventeen  sail,  all  of  which  reached  New 
England. 

From  the  period  at  which  Governor  Winthrop  set  sail  for 
New  England,  till  a  short  time  before  his  death,  he  kept  a 
journal  of  his  life  from  day  to  day ;  which  has  fortunately 
been  preserved  to  us,  partly  in  the  original  manuscript,  of 
which  a  portion  was  brought  to  light,  and  for  the  first  time 
published,  a  few  years  ago.*  The  voyage  of  Governor  Win- 
throp was  unattended  with  any  considerable  incident,  and  on 
the  twelfth  of  June,  after  a  passage  of  about  six  weeks,  the 
vessel  in  which  he  sailed  came  to  anchor  off  Salem.  On 
landing,  they  found  the  colony  there  in  an  improsperous 
condition,  eighty  of  their  number  having  died  the  preceding 
winter,  and  the  survivors  looking  for  support  to  the  supplies 
expected  by  the  governor,  which  unfortunately  did  not  arrive 
in  the  vessel  which  brought  him. 

The  intention  had  been  already  taken  not  to  establish  the 
seat  of  government  at  Salem.  After  lying  a  few  days  at 
anchor  off  that  place,  Governor  Winthrop  undertook  to  explore 
the  Massachusetts  Bay,  "to  find  a  place  for  sitting  down." 
On  the  seventeenth  of  June,  old  style,  he  proceeded  up  the 
Mystic  River  as  far  as  the  spot  which  he  occupied  as  a  coun- 
try residence  during  his  life,  and  which  has  preserved  to  the 
present  day  the  name  of  the  Ten  Hills,  given  to  it  by  him. 

Our  records  give  but  a  melancholy  account  of  the  condition 
of  things  which  the  colonists  were  called  to  encounter  in 
their  establishment  at  this  place.  We  there  read,  that 

"  The  governor  and  several  of  the  assistants  dwelt  in  the 
great  house,  which  was  last  year  built  in  this  town  by  Mr 
Graves  and  the  rest  of  their  servants.  The  multitude  set  up 
cottages,  booths,  and  tents  about  the  Town  Hill.  They  had 
long  passage.  Some  of  the  ships  were  seventeen,  some 
eighteen  weeks  a  coming.  Many  people  arrived  sick  of  the 


*  By  Hon.  James  Savage,  with  learned  annotations  on  the  whole  work, 
now  for  the  first  time  published  entire,  in  two  volumes. 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.        231 

scurvy,  which  also  increased  much  after  their  arrival,  for  want 
of  houses,  and  by  reason  of  wet  lodgings,  in  their  cottages, 
&c.  Other  distempers  also  prevailed,  and  although  people 
were  generally  very  loving  and  pitiful,  yet  the  sickness  did 
so  prevail,  that  the  whole  were  not  able  to  tend  the  sick  as 
they  should  be  tended  ;  upon  which  many  perished  and  died, 
and  were  buried  about  the  Town  Hill ;  by  which  means  the 
provisions  were  exceedingly  wasted,  and  no  supplies  could 
now  be  expected  by  planting  ;  besides,  *  there  was  miserable 
damage  and  spoil  of  provisions  by  sea,  and  divers  came  not 
so  well  provided  as  they  would,  upon  a  report,  whilst  they 
were  in  England,  that  now  there  was  enough  in  New 
England." 

It  was  the  intention  of  the  governor,  and  the  chief  part  of 
those  who  accompanied  him,  to  establish  themselves  perma- 
nently in  this  place  ;  and  to  .this  end  the  governor  made 
preparation  for  building  his  house  here.  But,  as  our  records 
proceed,  "the  weather  being  hot,  many  sick,  and  others 
faint,  after  their  long  voyage,  people  grew  discontented  for 
want  of  water,  who  generally  notioned  no  water  good  for  a 
town  but  running  springs  ;  and  though  this  neck  do  abound 
in  good  water,  yet,  for  want  of  experience  and  industry,  none 
could  then  be  found  to  suit  the  humor  of  that  time,  but  a 
brackish  spring  in  the  sands,  by  the  water-side,  on  the  west 
side  of  the  north-west  field,  which  could  not  supply  half  the 
necessities  of  the  multitude,  at  which  time  the  death  of  so 
many  was  concluded  to  be  much  the  more  occasioned  by  this 
want  of  good  water." 

In  consequence  of  this  difficulty,  numbers  of  those  who 
had  purposed  to  settle  themselves  at  Charlestown,  sought  an 
establishment  at  other  places,  as  Watertown  and  Dorchester  ; 
and  still  more  removed  to  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  laid 
the  foundation  of  Boston. 

"  In  the  mean  time,"  continue  our  records,  "  Mr  Black- 
stone  dwelling  on  the  other  side  of  Charles  River,  alone,  at  a 
place  by  the  Indians  called  Shawmut,  where  he  only  had  a 
cottage,  at  or  not  far  off  the  place  called  Blackstone's  Point, 
he  came  and  acquainted  the  governor  of  an  excellent  spring 


232       THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

there,  withal  inviting  him  and  soliciting  him  thither ;  where- 
upon, after  the  death  of  Mr  Johnson  and  divers  others,  the 
governor,  with  Mr  Wilson,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the 
church,  removed  thither." 

Such  were  the  inconveniences  and  distresses  of  the  first 
settlement,  which  bore  so  heavily  on  the  health  and  spirits 
of  the  colonists,  that  on  the  return  of  the  vessels  which 
brought  them  out,  more  than  a  hundred  went  back  to  Eng- 
land. 

But  the  necessary  limits  of  this  address  will  not  permit  me 
to  pursue  the  narrative,  and  I  can  only  ask  your  attention  to 
a  few  of  those  reflections,  which  are  suggested  by  the  occa- 
sion. 

What  our  country  is,  which  has  sprung  from  these  begin- 
nings, we  all  see  and  know  ; — its  numbers  bordering  upon 
twelve  millions,  if  they  do  not  exceed  it ;  *  its  great  abundance 
in  all  that  composes  the  wealth  and  the  strength  of  nations  ; 
its  rich  possession  of  the  means  of  private  happiness ;  its 
progress  in  the  useful  and  refined  arts  of  life  ;  its  unequalled 
enjoyment  of  political  privileges  ;  its  noble  provision  of  lit- 
erary, social,  charitable,  and  religious  establishments,  consti- 
tuting, together,  a  condition  of  prosperity,  which,  I  think, 
has  never  been  equalled  on  earth.  What  our  country  was, 
on  the  day  we  commemorate,  it  is  difficult  to  bring  distinctly 
home  to  our  minds.  There  was  a  feeble  colony  in  Virginia  ; 
a  very  small  Dutch  settlement  in  New  York  ;  a  population 
of  about  three  hundred  at  Plymouth ;  about  as  many  more 
English  inhabitants,  divided  between  Salem  and  Charles- 
town  ;  a  few  settlers  scattered  up  and  down  the  coast ;  and 
all  the  rest  a  vast  wilderness,  the  covert  of  wild  beasts  and 
savages. 

In  this  condition  of  things,  the  charter  of  the  colony  was 
brought  over,  and  the  foundations  were  laid  of  a  new  state. 
In  the  motives  which  led  to  this  enterprise,  there  were 
unquestionably  two  principles  united.  The  first  projects  of 

•  The  population  will  not  probably  fall  much  short  of  24,000,000,  by  the 
census  to  be  taken  this  year,  (1850.) 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.        233 

settling  on  the  coast  of  New  England  had  their  origin  in 
commercial  adventure  ;  and  without  the  direction  given  by 
this  spirit  to  the  minds  of  men,  and  the  information  brought 
home  by  fishing  and  trading  vessels,  the  attempt  would  prob- 
ably have  never  been  made  to  establish  a  colony.  It  deserves 
to  be  remarked,  therefore,  in  an  age  like  the  present,  when  it 
is  too  much  the  practice  to  measure  the  value  of  all  public 
enterprises  by  the  returns  in  money  which  they  bring  back 
to  their  projectors,  that  probably  a  more  unprofitable  specula- 
tion, in  a  financial  light,  than  that  of  the  council  of  Plymouth, 
was  never  undertaken.  In  a  few  years,  they  gladly  surren- 
dered their  patent  to  the  crown ;  and  it  is  doubtful  whether, 
while  they  held  it,  they  divided  a  farthing's  profit.  Yet, 
under  their  patent,  and  by  their  grant,  was  undertaken  and 
accomplished  perhaps  the  greatest  work  on  record  in  the 
annals  of  humanity. 

Mixed  with  this  motive  of  commercial  speculation  (itself 
liberal  and  praiseworthy)  was  another,  the  spring  of  all  that 
is  truly  great  in  human  affairs,  the  conservative  and  redeem- 
ing principle  of  our  natures,  —  I  mean  the  self-denying 
enthusiasm  of  our  forefathers,  sacrificing  present  ease  for  a 
great  end.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  even  they  had  an 
accurate  foresight  of  the  work  in  which  they  were  engaged. 
What  an  empire  was  to  rise  on  their  humble  foundations, 
imagination  never  revealed  to  them,  nor  could  they,  nor  did 
they,  conceive  it.  They  contemplated  an  obscure  and  humble 
colony,  safe  beneath  the  toleration  of  the  crown,  where  they 
could  enjoy,  what  they  prized  above  all  earthly  things, 
the  liberty  of  conscience  in  the  worship  of  God.  Stern  as 
they  are  portrayed  to  us,  they  entertained  neither  the  bitter- 
ness of  an  indignant  separation  from  home,  nor  the  pride  of 
an  anticipated  and  triumphant  enlargement  here.  Their 
enthusiasm  was  rather  that  of  fortitude  and  endurance,  passive 
and  melancholy.  Driven  though  they  were  from  their  homes 
by  the  oppression  of  the  established  church,  they  parted  from 
her  as  a  dutiful  child  from  a  severe  but  venerated  parent. 
"  We  esteem  it  our  honor,"  say  they,  in  their  inimitable  letter 
from  on  board  the  Arbella,  "  to  call  the  church  of  England. 
VOL.  i.  30 


234        THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

from  which  we  rise,  our  dear  mother ;  and  we  cannot,  part 
from  our  native  country,  where  she  specially  resideth,  without 
much  sadness  of  heart,  and  many  tears  in  our  eyes ;  ever 
acknowledging  that  such  hope  and  part  as  we  have  obtained 
in  the  common  salvation  we  have  received  in  her  bosom,  and 
sucked  it  from  her  breasts."  And  having,  in  this  same 
pathetic  appeal,  invoked  the  prayers  of  their  brethren  in 
England  for  their  welfare,  they  add,  "  What  goodness  you 
shall  extend  to  us,  in  this  or  any  other  Christian  kindness,  we, 
your  brethren,  shall  labor  to  repay,  in  what  duty  we  are  or 
shall  be  able  to  perform  ;  promising,  so  far  as  God  shall  enable 
us,  to  give  him  no  rest  on  your  behalf,  wishing  our  heads  and 
hearts  may  be  fountains  of  tears  for  your  everlasting  welfare, 
when  we  shall  be  in  our  poor  cottages  in  the  wilderness, 
overshadowed  with  the  spirit  of  supplication,  through  the 
manifold  necessities  and  tribulations  which  may  not  altogether 
unexpectedly,  nor,  we  hope,  unprofitably,  befall  us."* 

In  the  spirit  that  dictated  these  expressions,  —  the  disinter- 
ested enthusiasm  of  men,  giving  up  home,  and  friends,  and 
their  native  land,  for  a  conscientious  principle,  —  we  behold 
not  merely  the  cause  of  the  success  of  their  enterprise,  but 
the  secret  source  of  every  great  and  generous  work,  especially 
in  the  founding  of  social  institutions,  that  was  ever  performed. 
One  trading  company  after  another  had  failed  ;  charters  had 
been  given,  enlarged,  and  vacated  ;  well-appointed  fleets  had 
been  scattered  or  returned  without  success,  and  rich  adven- 
tures had  ended  in  ruin  ;  when  a  few  aggrieved  and  consci- 
entious men,  turning  their  backs  on  plenty  at  home,  and 
setting  their  faces  towards  want  and  danger  in  the  wilderness, 
took  up  and  accomplished  the  work. 

The  esteem  in  which  we  of  the  present  day  hold  their 
characters,  and  the  sympathy  we  feel  in  their  trials,  are, 
perhaps,  qualified  by  finding  that  this  enthusiasm  which 
inspired  them  was  almost  wholly  expended  on  the  concerns 
of  the  church,  and  was  associated  in  that  respect  with  opinions 
and  feelings,  as  we  may  think,  not  the  most  enlarged  and 

*  Hutchinson,  Vol.  I.  Appendix,  No.  1. 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.        235 

liberal.  This  prejudice,  however,  (for  such  I  regard  it,)  ought 
not  to  be  permitted  to  establish  itself  in  the  minds  of  any 
generation  of  the  descendants  of  the  fathers  of  New  England. 
The  spirit  that  actuated  them  was  the  great  principle  of 
disinterested  enthusiasm  —  the  purest  and  best  that  can  warm 
the  heart  and  govern  the  conduct  of  man.  It  took  a  direction 
towards  the  doctrines  and  forms  of  the  church,  partly,  of 
course,  because  religion  is  a  matter  on  which  tender  and 
ardent  minds  feel  with  the  greatest  sensibility  ;  but  mainly 
because  they  were,  in  that  respect,  oppressed  and  aggrieved. 
It  was  precisely  the  same  spirit  which  animated  our  fathers 
in  the  revolution,  assuming  then  the  form  of  the  passion  for 
civil  liberty,  and  struggling  against  political  oppression,  be- 
cause this  was  the  evil  which  they  suffered.  And  it  is  the 
same  principle,  which,  in  every  age,  wars  against  tyranny, 
sympathizes  with  the  oppressed,  kindles  at  the  report  of  gen- 
erous actions,  and,  rising  above  selfish  calculation  and  sensual 
indulgence,  learns  "  to  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days ; " 
and  is  ready,  when  honor  and  duty  call,  to  sacrifice  property, 
and  ease,  and  life. 

There  is  another  thing  that  must  be  borne  in  mind  when 
we  sit  in  judgment  on  the  character  of  our  fathers.  The 
opinions  which  men  entertain,  especially  on  great  social  insti- 
tutions and  the  duties  which  grow  out  of  them,  depend  very 
much  on  the  degree  of  intelligence  prevailing  in  the  world. 
Great  men  go  beyond  their  age,  it  is  true ;  but  there  are 
limits  to  this  power  of  anticipation.  They  go  beyond  it  in 
some  things,  but  not  in  all,  and  not  often  in  any  to  the  utmost 
point  of  improvement.  Lord  Bacon  laid  down  the  principles 
of  a  new  philosophy,  but  did  not  admit  the  Copernican  sys- 
tem. Men  who  have  been  connected  with  the  establishment 
of  great  institutions  ought  to  be  judged  by  the  general  resu.t 
of  their  work.  We  judge  of  St  Peter's  by  the  grandeur  of 
the  elevation  and  the  majesty  of  the  dome,  not  by  the  flaws 
in  the  stone  of  which  the  walls  are  built.  The  fathers  of 
New  England,  a  company  of  private  gentlemen,  of  moderate 
fortunes,  bred  up  under  an  established  church  and  an  arbitrary 
and  hereditary  civil  government,  came  over  the  Atlantic  two 


236        THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

hundred  years  ago.  They  were  imperfect,  they  had  faults, 
they  committed  errors.  But  they  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
state  of  things  which  we  enjoy  —  of  political  and  religious 
freedom  ;  of  public  and  private  prosperity ;  of  a  great,  thriv- 
ing, well-organized  republic.  What  more  could  they  have 
done  ?  What  more  could  any  men  do  ?  Above  all,  what 
lesson  should  we  have  given  them,  had  we  been  in  existence, 
and  called  to  advise  on  the  subject  ?  Most  unquestionably 
we  should  have  discouraged  the  enterprise  altogether.  Our 
political  economists  would  have  said,  Abandon  this  mad 
scheme  of  organizing  your  own  church  and  state,  when  you 
can  have  all  the  benefit  of  the  venerable  establishments  of 
the  mother  country,  the  fruit  of  the  wisdom  of  ages,  at  a 
vastly  less  cost.  The  capitalists  would  have  said,  Do  not  be 
so  insane  as  to  throw  away  your  broad  acres  and  solid  guineas 
in  so  wild  a  speculation.  The  man  of  common  sense,  that 
dreadful  foe  of  great  enterprises,  would  have  discredited  the 
whole  project.  Go  to  any  individual  of  the  present  day, 
situated  as  Governor  Winthrop  was,  at  his  family  mansion, 
at  Groton,  in  England,  in  the  bosom  of  a  happy  home,  sur- 
rounded by  an  affectionate,  prosperous  family,  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  an  ample  fortune,  and  tell  him,  inasmuch  as  the 
government  has  ordained  that  the  priest  should  perform  a 
part  of  the  sacred  service  in  a  white  surplice,  and  make  the 
sign  of  the  cross  in  baptism,  that  therefore  he  had  better 
convert  his  estate  into  money,  and  leave  his  home  and  fam- 
ily, and  go  and  settle  a  colony  on  one  of  the  islands  of  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  or  establish  himself  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Columbia  River,  where  he  would  have  liberty  of  conscience. 
I  think  he  would  recommend  to  his  adviser  to  go  and  estab- 
lish himself  at  a  certain  mansion  which  benevolence  has 
provided,  a  little  to  the  north  of  Lechmere's  Point. 

I  do  not  say  the  cases  are  wholly  parallel ;  but  such  would 
be  the  view  now  taken,  on  the  principles  which  govern  men 
in  our  state  of  society,  of  such  a  course  as  that  which  was 
pursued  by  Governor  Winthrop  and  his  associates. 

I  deduce  from  this,  not  that  they  were  high-minded,  and 
we  base  and  degenerate ;  I  will  not  so  compliment  the  fathers 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    M  ASS  ACHUSE  1  TS.        237 

at  the  expense  of  the  sons.  On  the  contrary,  let  the  crisis 
arrive  ;  let  a  state  of  things  present  itself,  (hardly  conceivable, 
to  be  sure,  but  within  the  range  of  possibility,)  when  our 
beloved  New  England  no  longer  afforded  us  the  quiet  posses- 
sion of  our  rights,  I  believe  we  should  then  show  ourselves 
the  worthy  descendants  of  the  Pilgrims ;  and  if  the  earth 
contained  a  region,  however  remote,  a  shore,  however  bar- 
barous, where  we  could  enjoy  the  liberty  denied  us  at  home, 
that  we  should  say,  "  Where  liberty  is,  there  is  my  country," 
and  go  and  seek  it.  But  let  us  not,  meantime,  nourished  as 
we  are  out  of  the  abundance  which  they,  needy  and  suffer- 
ing themselves,  transmitted  to  us,  deride  their  bigotry,  which 
turned  trifles  into  consequence,  or  wonder  at  their  zeal, 
which  made  great  sacrifices  for  small  inducements.  It  is 
ungrateful. 

Nor  let  us  suppose  that  it  would  be  too  safe  to  institute  a 
comparison  between  our  fathers  and  ourselves,  even  on  those 
points  with  regard  to  which  we  have  both  been  called  to  act. 
It  has  so  happened,  that  the  government  of  the  United  States 
has,  in  the  course  of  the  last  year,  been  obliged  to  consider 
and  act  on  a  subject  which  was  one  of  the  first  and  most  anx- 
ious that  presented  itself  to  the  early  settlers  of  New  England, 
—  I  mean  our  relations  with  the  Indian  tribes.  In  alluding 
to  this  subject,  I  freely  admit  that,  in  the  infancy  of  the  col- 
onies, when  the  Indians  were  strong  and  the  colonists  weak,  — 
when  the  savage,  roaming  the  woods  with  the  tomahawk  and 
scalping-knife,  was  a  foe  to  the  New  England  settlements 
alike  dangerous  and  dreadful,  —  some  actions  were  committed 
in  the  settlements,  in  moments  of  excitement,  which  we  can-^ 
not  too  deeply  condemn,  nor  too  sadly  deplore.  In  allusion 
to  these  actions,  and  in  vindicating  the  course  which,  during 
the  past  year,  has  been  pursued  towards  the  tribes  of  civilized 
Indians  resident  within  the  United  States,  it  has  been  argued 
that  they  have  not  been  treated  with  greater  severity  by  the 
government  of  the  United  States,  or  of  any  of  the  separate 
states,  than  they  were  treated  by  the  fathers  of  New  Eng- 
land. But  it  would  seem  not  enough  for  an  age  which  is  so 
liberal  of  its  censures  of  the  Puritans,  to  show  itself  only  not 


238   THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  MASSACHUSETTS. 

more  oppressive  than  they.  Has  civilization  made  no  prog- 
ress in  two  hundred  years  ?  Will  any  statesman  maintain, 
that  the  relation  of  our  Union  to  the  feeble  and  dependent 
tribes  within  its  limits  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  infant  col- 
onies towards  the  barbarous  nations  which  surrounded  them  ? 
It  was  the  opinion  of  that  age  that  the  royal  patents  gave  a 
perfect  right  to  the  soil.  We  have  hitherto  professed  to 
believe  that  nothing  can  give  a  perfect  right  to  the  soil  occu- 
pied by  the  Indian  tribes  but  the  free  consent  of  these  tribes, 
expressed  by  public  compact,  to  alienate  their  right,  whatever 
it  be.  They  believed  that  heathen  nations,  as  such,  might  be 
rightfully  dispossessed  by  Christian  men.  We  have  professed 
to  believe  that  this  would  be  a  very  equivocal  way  of  show- 
ing our  Christianity.  And  yet,  notwithstanding  these  opin- 
ions, I  do  not  recollect  that,  in  a  single  instance,  our  fathers 
claimed  a  right  to  eject  the  native  population.  For  a  long 
time  they  were  the  weaker  party.  Among  the  first  acts  of 
the  Plymouth  colony  was  an  amicable  treaty  with  the  nearest 
and  most  powerful  Indian  chieftain,  who  lived  and  died  their 
friend.  The  colonists  of  Massachusetts,  in  a  letter  of  instruc- 
tions* from  the  company,  of  May  twenty-eighth,  1629,  were 
directed  to  make  a  reasonable  composition  with  the  Indians 
who  claimed  lands  within  their  patent.  The  worthy  found- 
ers of  Charlestown,  an  enterprising  handful  of  men,  settled 
down  here,  with  the  free  consent  of  the  powerful  tribe  in 
their  neighborhood,  whose  chief  remained  the  friend  of  the 
English  to  the  last.  In  a  word,  the  opinions  of  our  forefathers, 
on  this  interesting  subject,  are  expressed  by  Mr  Pynchon, 
of  Springfield,  with  a  discrimination  and  pointedness  almost 
prophetic  of  the  present  contest.  "  I  grant,"  says  he,  in  ref- 
erence to  a  particular  case,  "  that  all  these  Indians  f  are  within 
the  line  of  the  patent ;  but  yet  you  cannot  say  they  are  your 
subjects,  nor  yet  within  your  jurisdiction,  till  they  have  fully 
subjected  themselves,  (which  I  know  they  have  not,)  and 

*  Hazard's  State  Papers,  Vol.  I.  p.  277 ;  to  the  same  effect,  also,  a  still 
earlier  letter  of  instructions. 

f  See  the  case  referred  to  in  Winthrop's  Journal,  Savage's  edition, 
Vol.  II.  p.  384. 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.        239 

until  you  have  bought  their  land.  Until  this  be  done,  they 
must  be  esteemed  as  an  independent,  free  people." 

Contrast  these  doctrines  with  those  latterly  advanced  by 
the  government,  both  of  the  United  States  and  several  of  the 
individual  states :  That  the  State  charters  give  a  perfect 
right  to  the  soil  and  sovereignty  within  their  nominal  limits, 
and  that  the  Indians  have  only  a  right  of  occupancy,  and  that 
by  permission;  that  the  treaties  with  them,  negotiated  for 
fifty  years,  with  all  the  forms  of  the  constitution,  bind  them 
as  far  as  the  treaties  contain  cessions  of  land,  but  do  not  bind 
us,  when  we  guaranty  the  remainder  of  the  land  to  them  ; 
—  that  when  the  Indians,  on  the  faith  of  these  treaties,  cry 
to  us  for  protection  against  state  laws,  unconstitutionally 
passed,  with  the  known  design  and  to  the  admitted  effect  of 
compelling  them  to  leave  their  homes,  it  is  within  the  com- 
petence of  the  executive,  without  consulting  the  national 
legislature,  to  withhold  this  protection,  and  advise  the  Indians, 
as  they  would  escape  destruction,  to  fly  to  the  distant  wilder- 
ness ;  —  and  all  this  in  the  case,  not  of  savage,  unreclaimed 
tribes,  such  as  our  forefathers  had  to  deal  with,  who  lived  by 
the  chase,  without  permanent  habitations,  —  to  whom  one 
tract  of  the  forest  was  as  much  a  home  as  another,  —  but 
tribes  whom  we  have  trained  to  civilization,  whom  we  have 
converted  to  our  religion ;  who  live,  as  we  do,  by  the  indus- 
trious arts  of  life,  and  who,  in  their  official  papers,  written  by 
themselves,  plead  for  their  rights  in  better  English  than  that 
of  the  high  officers  of  the  government,  who  plead  against 
them. 

But  I  protest  against  bringing  the  actions  of  men,  in  one 
age,  to  the  standard  of  another,  in  things  that  depend  on  the 
state  of  civilization  and  public  sentiment  throughout  the 
world.  Try  our  fathers  by  the  only  fair  test,  the  standard  of 
the  age  in  which  they  lived  ;  and  1  believe  that  they  admit 
a  very  good  defence,  even  on  the  point  where  they  are  sup- 
posed to  be  most  vulnerable  —  that  of  religious  freedom.  I 
do  not  pretend  that  they  were  governed  by  an  enlightened 
spirit  of  toleration.  Such  a  spirit,  actuating  a  large  commu- 
nity, made  up  of  men  of  one  mind,  and  possessing  absolute 


240        THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

power  to  compel  the  few  dissenters  to  conform,  is  not  so 
common,  even  at  the  present  day,  as  may  be  thought.  I  have 
great  doubts  whether  the  most  liberal  sect  of  Christians  now 
extant,  if  it  constituted  as  great  a  majority  as  our  forefathers 
did  of  the  community,  and  if  it  possessed  an  unlimited  civil 
and  ecclesiastical  power,  would  be  much  more  magnanimous 
than  they  were,  in  its  use.  They  would  not,  perhaps,  use 
the  scourge,  or  the  halter ;  humanity  proscribes  them  alto- 
gether, except  for  the  most  dangerous  crimes  ;  but  that  they 
would  allow  the  order  of  the  community  to  be  disturbed  by 
the  intrusion  of  opposite  opinions,  distasteful  to  themselves, 
I  have  great  doubts.  With  all  the  puritanical  austerity,  and 
-  —  what  is  much  more  to  be  deplored  —  the  intolerance  of 
dissent,  which  are  chargeable  to  our  fathers,  they  secured, 
and  we  are  indebted  to  them  for,  two  great  principles,  without 
which  all  the  candor  and  kindness  we  may  express  towards 
opponents,  go  but  a  short  step  towards  religious  freedom. 
One  of  these  is  the  independence  of  each  individual  church ; 
the  other,  the  separation  of  church  and  state.  Our  fathers 
were  educated  under  an  ecclesiastical  system,  which  com- 
bined all  the  churches  into  one  body.  They  forbore  to 
imitate  that  system  here,  though  the  hierarchy  of  the  new 
churches  would  have  been  composed  of  themselves,  with 
John  Cotton  at  its  head.  They  were  educated  in  a  system 
where  the  church  is  part  of  the  state,  and  vast  endowments 
are  bestowed,  in  perpetuity,  upon  it.  This,  too,  our  fathers 
could  have  imitated,  securing  to  themselves  while  they  lived, 
and  those  who  thought  with  them  when  they  were  gone, 
the  usufruct  of  these  endowments,  as  far  as  the  law  could 
work  such  assurance.  They  did  neither,  although  they  had 
purchased  the  fair  right  of  doing  what  they  pleased,  by  ban- 
ishing themselves,  for  that  very  reason,  from  the  world. 
They  did  neither,  although  they  lived  in  an  age,  when,  had 
they  done  both,  there  was  no  one  who  could  rightfully  cast 
reproach  upon  them.  In  all  the  wide  world,  there  was  not  a 
government,  nor  a  people,  that  could  rebuke  them,  by  precept 
or  example.  Where  was  there  ?  In  England,  the  fires  of 
Papacy  were  hardly  quenched,  when  tyrannies  scarcely  less 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.         241 

atrocious,  against  the  Puritans,  began.  In  Prance,  the 
Protestants  were  at  the  mercy  of  a  capricious  and  soon- 
revoked  toleration.  The  Catholics,  in  Germany,  were 
unchaining  their  legions  against  the  Lutherans ;  and  in  Hol- 
land, reformed  Holland,  fine  and  imprisonment  were  the 
reward  of  Grotius,  the  man  in  whom  that  country  will  be 
remembered  ages  after  the  German  Ocean  has  broken  over 
her  main  dike.  Had  our  forefathers  laid  the  foundation  of 
the  most  rigid  ecclesiastical  system  that  ever  oppressed  the 
world,  and  locked  up  a  quarter  part  of  New  England  in 
mortmain,  to  endow  it,  there  was  not  a  community  in  Chris- 
tendom to  bear  witness  against  them. 

If  we  would,  on  a  broad,  rational  ground,  come  to  a  favor- 
able judgment,  on  the  whole,  of  the  merit  of  our  forefathers, 
the  founders  of  New  England,  we  have  only  to  compare  what 
they  effected,  with  what  was  effected  by  their  countrymen 
and  brethren  in  Great  Britain.  While  the  fathers  of  New 
England,  a  small  band  of  individuals,  for  the  most  part  of 
little  account  to  the  great  world  of  London,  were  engaged, 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  in  laying  the  foundations  of  civil 
and  religious  liberty  in  a  new  commonwealth,  the  patriots  in 
England  undertook  the  same  work  of  reform  in  that  country. 
There  were  difficulties,  no  doubt,  peculiar  to  the  enterprise, 
as  undertaken  in  each  country.  In  Great  Britain,  there  was 
the  strenuous  opposition  of  the  friends  of  the  established 
system  ;  in  New  England,  there  was  the  difficulty  of  creating 
a  new  state,  out  of  materials  the  most  scanty  and  inadequate. 
If  there  were  fewer  obstacles  here,  there  were  greater  means 
there.  They  had  all  the  refinements  of  the  age,  which  the 
Puritans  are  charged  with  having  left  behind  them  ;  all  the 
resources  of  the  country,  while  the  Puritans  had  nothing  but 
their  own  slender  means ;  and,  at  length,  all  the  patronage 
of  the  government ;  —  and  with  them  they  overthrew  the 
church ;  trampled  the  House  of  Lords  under  foot ;  and 
brought  the  king  to  the  block.  The  fathers  of  New  Eng- 
land, from  first  to  last,  struggled  against  almost  every  con- 
ceivable discouragement.  While  the  patriots  at  home  were 
dictating  concessions  to  the  king,  and  tearing  his  confidential 

VOL.   I.  31 


242        THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

friends  from  his  arms,  the  patriots  of  America  could  scarcely 
keep  their  charter  out  of  his  grasp.  While  the  former  were 
wielding  a  resolute  majority  in  parliament,  under  the  lead  of 
the  boldest  spirits  that  ever  lived,  combining  with  Scotland, 
and  subduing  Ireland,  and  striking  terror  into  the  continental 
governments,  the  latter  were  forming  a  frail  union  of  the 
New  England  colonies,  for  immediate  defence,  against  a 
savage  foe.  While  the  "  Lord  General  Cromwell,"  (who 
seems  to  have  picked  up  this  modest  title  among  the  spoils  of 
the  routed  aristocracy, )  in  the  superb  flattery  of  Milton, 

"Guided  by  faith,  and  matchless  fortitude, 
To  peace  and  truth  his  glorious  way  had  ploughed, 
And  on  the  neck  of  crowned  fortune  proud 
Had  reared  God's  trophies," 

our  truly  excellent  and  incorruptible  Winthrop  was  com- 
pelled to  descend  from  the  chair  of  state,  and  submit  to  an 
impeachment. 

And  what  was  the  comparative  success?  There  were,  to 
say  the  least,  as  many  excesses  committed  in  England  as  in 
Massachusetts  Bay.  There  was  as  much  intolerance  on  the 
part  of  men  just  escaped  from  persecution ;  as  much  bigotry 
on  the  part  of  those  who  had  themselves  suffered  for  con- 
science' sake  ;  as  much  unreasonable  austerity  ;  as  much  sour 
temper ;  as  much  bad  taste ;  as  much  for  charity  to  forgive, 
and  as  much  for  humanity  to  deplore.  The  temper,  in  fact, 
in  the  two  commonwealths  was  much  the  same,  and  some  of 
the  leading  spirits  played  a  part  in  both.  And  to  what  effect  ? 
On  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  the  whole  experiment  ended 
in  a  miserable  failure.  The  commonwealth  became  succes- 
sively oppressive,  hateful,  contemptible ;  a  greater  burden 
than  the  despotism  on  whose  ruins  it  was  raised.  The 
people  of  England,  after  sacrifices  incalculable  of  property 
and  life,  after  a  struggle  of  thirty  years'  duration,  allowed  the 
general,  who  happened  to  have  the  greatest  number  of  troops 
at  his  command,  to  bring  back  the  old  system  —  King,  lords, 
and  church  —  with  as  little  ceremony  as  he  would  employ  in 
issuing  the  orders  of  the  day.  After  asking,  for  thirty  years, 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS.        243 

What  is  the  will  of  the  Lord  concerning  his  people  ?  What 
is  it  becoming  a  pure  church  to  do  ?  What  does  the  cause  of 
liberty  demand  in  the  day  of  its  regeneration?  there  was 
but  one  cry  in  England  —  What  does  General  Monk  think  ? 
What  will  General  Monk  do  ?  Will  he  bring  back  the  king 
with  conditions,  or  without  ?  And  General  Monk  concluded 
to  bring  him  back  without. 

On  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and  in  about  the  same  period, 
the  work  which  our  fathers  took  in  hand  was,  in  the  main, 
successfully  done.  They  came  to  found  a  republican  colony. 
They  founded  it.  They  came  to  establish  a  free  church. 
They  established  what  they  called  a  free  church,  and  trans- 
mitted to  us  what  we  call  a  free  church.  In  accomplishing 
this,  which  they  did  anticipate,  they  brought  also  to  pass 
what  they  did  not  so  distinctly  foresee,  —  what  could  not,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  in  its  detail  and  circumstance,  be  antici- 
pated, —  the  foundation  of  a  great,  prosperous,  and  growing 
republic.  We  have  not  been  just  to  these  men.  I  am  dis- 
posed to  do  all  justice  to  the  memory  of  each  succeeding 
generation.  I  admire  the  indomitable  perseverance  with 
which  the  contest  for  principle  was  kept  up  under  the  second 
charter.  I  reverence,  this  side  idolatry,  the  wisdom  and  for- 
titude of  the  revolutionary  and  constitutional  leaders,  but  I 
believe  we  ought  to  go  back  beyond  them  all  for  the  real 
framers  of  the  commonwealth.  I  believe  that  its  foundation 
stones,  like  those  of  the  Capitol  of  Rome,  lie  deep  and  solid, 
out  of  sight,  at  the  bottom  of  the  walls,  —  Cyclopean  work, 
the  work  of  the  Pilgrims,  —  with  nothing  below  them  but 
the  rock  of  ages.  I  will  not  quarrel  with  their  rough  corners 
or  uneven  sides ;  above  all,  I  will  not  change  them  for  the 
wood,  hay,  and  stubble  of  modern  builders. 

But  it  is  more  than  time,  fellow-citizens,  that  I  should 
draw  to  a  close.  These  venerable  foundations  of  our  repub- 
lic were  laid,  on  the  very  spot  where  we  stand,  by  the  fathers 
of  Massachusetts.  Here,  before  they  were  able  to  erect  a 
suitable  place  for  worship,  they  were  wont,  beneath  the 
branches  of  a  spreading  tree,  to  commend  their  wants,  their 
sufferings,  and  their  hopes  to  Him  that  dwelleth  not  in  houses 


244   THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  MASSACHUSETTS 

made  with  hands ;  here  they  erected  their  first  habitations ; 
here  they  gathered  their  first  church ;  here  they  made  their 
first  graves. 

Yes,  on  the  very  spot  where  we  are  assembled,  —  now 
crowned  with  this  spacious  church,  surrounded  by  the  com- 
fortable abodes  of  a  dense  population,  —  there  were,  during 
the  first  season  after  the  landing  of  Winthrop.  fewer  dwell- 
ings for  the  living  than  graves  for  the  dead.  It  seemed  the 
will  of  Providence  that  our  fathers  should  be  tried  by  the 
extremities  of  either  season.  When  the  Pilgrims  approached 
the  coast  of  Plymouth,  they  found  it  clad  with  all  the  terrors 
of  a  northern  winter. 

"  The  sea  around  was  black  with  storms, 
And  white  the  shores  with  snow." 

We  can  scarcely  now  think,  without  tears,  of  a  company  ol 
men,  women,  and  children,  brought  up  hi  tenderness,  exposed, 
after  several  months'  uncomfortable  confinement  on  ship- 
board, to  the  rigors  of  our  November  and  December  sky,  on 
an  unknown,  barbarous  coast,  whose  frightful  rocks,  even 
now,  strike  terror  into  the  heart  of  the  returning  mariner, 
though  he  knows  that  the  home  of  his  childhood  awaits  him 
within  their  enclosure. 

The  Massachusetts  Company  arrived  at  the  close  of  June. 
No  vineyards,  as  now,  clothed  our  inhospitable  hill-sides ; 
no  blooming  orchards,  as  at  the  present  day,  wore  the  livery 
of  Eden,  and  loaded  the  breeze  with  sweet  odors ;  no  rich 
pastures,  nor  waving  crops,  stretched  beneath  the  eye  along 
the  way  side,  from  village  to  village,  as  if  Nature  had  been 
spreading  her  floors  with  a  carpet,  fit  to  be  pressed  by  the 
footsteps  of  her  descending  God  !  The  beauty  and  the 
bloom  of  the  year  had  passed.  The  earth,  not  yet  subdued 
by  culture,  bore  upon  its  untilled  bosom  nothing  but  a  dismal 
forest,  that  mocked  their  hunger  with  rank  and  unprofitable 
vegetation.  The  sun  was  hot  in  the  heavens.  The  soil 
was  parched,  and  the  hand  of  man  had  not  yet  taught  its 
secret  springs  to  flow  from  their  fountains.  The  wasting 
disease  of  the  heart-sick  mariner  was  upon  the  men  ;  and  the 


THE    SETTLEMENT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

women  and  children  thought  of  the  pleasant  homes  of  Eng- 
land as  they  sank  down,  from  day  to  day,  and  died  at  last 
for  want  of  a  cup  of  cold  water  in  this  melancholy  land  of 
promise.  From  the  time  the  company  sailed  from  England, 
in  April,  up  to  the  December  following,  there  died  not  less 
than  two  hundred  persons,  —  nearly  one  a  day. 

They  were  buried,  say  our  records,  about  the  Town  Hill. 
This  is  the  Town  Hill.  We  are  gathered  over  the  ashes  of 
our  forefathers. 

It  is  good,  but  solemn,  to  be  here.  We  live  on  holy 
ground ;  all  our  hill-tops  are  the  altars  of  precious  sacrifice. 

This  is  stored  with  the  sacred  dust  of  the  first  victims  in 
the  cause  of  liberty. 

And  that*  is  rich  from  the  life  stream  of  the  noble  hearts 
who  bled  to  sustain  it. 

Here,  beneath  our  feet,  unconscious  that  we  commemorate 
their  worth,  repose  the  meek  and  sainted  martyrs  whose  flesh 
sunk  beneath  the  lofty  temper  of  their  noble  spirits;  and 
there  rest  the  heroes  who  presented  their  dauntless  foreheads 
to  the  God  of  battles,  when  he  came  to  his  awful  baptism  of 
blood  and  of  fire. 

Happy  the  fate  which  has  laid  them  so  near  to  each  other, 
the  early  and  the  latter  champions  of  the  one  great  cause ! 
And  happy  we,  who  are  permitted  to  reap  in  peace  the  fruit 
of  their  costly  sacrifice  !  Happy,  that  we  can  make  our  pious 
pilgrimage  to  the  smooth  turf  of  that  venerable  summit,  once 
ploughed  with  the  wheels  of  maddening  artillery,  ringing 
with  all  the  dreadful  voices  of  war,  wrapped  in  smoke,  and 
streaming  with  blood !  Happy,  that  here,  where  our  fathers 
sank,  beneath  the  burning  sun,  into  the  parched  clay,  we 
live,  and  assemble,  and  mingle  sweet  counsel  and  grateful 
thoughts  of  them,  in  comfort  and  peace  ! 

«  Bunker  HilL 


ON  THE  IMPORTANCE  OE  SCIENTIFIC  KNOWLEDGE 

TO  PRACTICAL  MEN,  AND  ON  THE  ENCOURAGEMENTS 
TO  ITS  PURSUIT.* 


THE  chief  object  of  the  Mechanics'  Institute  is,  to  diffuse 
useful  knowledge  among  the  mechanic  class  of  the  commu- 
nity. It  aims,  in  general,  to  improve  and  inform  the  minds 
of  its  members  ;  and  particularly  to  illustrate  and  explain  the 
principles  of  the  various  arts  of  life,  and  render  them  familiar 
to  those  who  are  to  exercise  these  arts  as  their  occupation. 
It  is,  also,  a  proper  object  of  the  Institute  to  point  out  the 
connection  between  the  mechanic  arts  and  the  other  pursuits 
and  occupations,  and  show  the  foundations  which  exist  in 
our  very  nature  for  a  cordial  union  between  them  all. 

These  objects  recommend  themselves  strongly  to  general 
approbation.  While  the  cultivation  of  the  mind,  in  its  more 
general  sense,  and  in  connection  with  morals,  is  as  important 
to  mechanics  as  to  any  other  class,  nothing  is  plainer  than 
that  those,  whose  livelihood  depends  on  the  skilful  practice 
of  the  arts,  ought  to  be  instructed,  as  far  as  possible,  in  the 
scientific  principles  and  natural  laws  on  which  the  arts  are 
founded.  This  is  necessary,  in  order  that  the  arts  themselves 
should  be  pursued  to  the  greatest  advantage  ;  that  popular 
errors  should  be  eradicated  ;  that  every  accidental  improve- 
ment in  the  processes  of  industry,  which  offers  itself,  should 
be  readily  taken  up  and  pursued  to  its  principle  ;  that  false 
notions,  leading  tq  waste  of  time  and  labor,  should  be  pre- 


*  The  following  essay  contains  the  substance  of  addresses  delivered  by 
the  author,  before  several  institutions  for  scientific  improvement 

(246) 


IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE.    247 

vented  from  gaining  or  retaining  currency  ;  —  in  short,  that 
the  useful,  like  the  ornamental,  arts  of  life  should  be  carried 
to  the  point  of  attainable  perfection. 

The  history  of  the  progress  of  the  human  mind  shows  us, 
that,  for  want  of  a  diffusion  of  scientific  knowledge  among 
practical  men,  great  evils  have  resulted  both  to  science  and 
practice.  Before  the  invention  of  the  art  of  printing,  the 
means  of  acquiring  and  circulating  knowledge  were  few  and 
ineffectual.  The  philosopher  was,  in  consequence,  exclusively 
a  man  of  study,  who,  by  living  in  a  monastic  seclusion,  and 
by  delving  into  the  few  books  which  time  had  spared,  — 
particularly  the  works  of  Aristotle  and  his  commentators,  — 
succeeded  in  mastering  the  learning  of  the  day  ;  learning 
mostly  of  an  abstract  and  metaphysical  nature.  Thus,  living 
in  a  world,  not  of  practice,  but  speculation,  and  seldom 
bringing  his  theories  to  the  test  of  observation,  his  studies 
assumed  a  visionary  character.  Hence  the  projects  for  the 
transmutation  of  metals  —  a  notion  not  originating  in  any 
observation  of  the  qualities  of  the  different  kinds  of  metals  ; 
but  in  reasoning,  a  priori,  on  their  supposed  identity  of  sub- 
stance. So  deep-rooted  was  this  delusion,  that  a  great  part 
of  the  natural  science  of  the  middle  ages  consisted  in  projects 
to  convert  the  baser  metals  into  gold.  Such  a  project,  at  the 
present  day,  would  no  more  be  countenanced  by  intelligent, 
well-informed  persons,  practically  conversant  with  the  nature 
of  the  metals,  than  a  project  to  transmute  pine  into  oak,  or 
fish  into  flesh. 

In  like  manner,  by  giving  science  wholly  up  to  the  philoso- 
phers, and  making  the  practical  arts  of  life  merely  a  matter 
of  traditionary  repetition,  from  one  generation  to  another  of 
uninformed  artisans,  much  evil  of  an  opposite  kind  was 
occasioned.  Accident,  of  course,  could  be  the  only  source 
of  improvement ;  and,  for  want  of  acquaintance  with  the 
leading  principles  of  mechanical  philosophy,  the  chances 
were  greatly  multiplied  against  these  accidental  improve- 
ments. For  want  of  the  diffusion  of  information  among 
practical  men,  the  principles  prevailing  in  an  art  in  one  place 
were  unknown  in  other  places  j  and  processes  existing  at  one 


248     IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE. 

period  were  liable  to  be  forgotten,  in  the  lapse  of  time.  Mys- 
teries and  secrets,  easily  kept  in  such  a  state  of  things,  and 
cherished  by  their  possessor,  as  a  source  of  monopoly,  were 
so  common,  that  mystery  is  still  occasionally  used  as  synony- 
mous with  trade.  This  also  contributed  to  the  loss  of  arts 
once  brought  to  perfection,  such  as  that  of  staining  glass,  as 
practised  in  the  middle  ages.  Complicated  machinery  was 
out  of  the  question  ;  for  it  requires  for  its  invention  and  im- 
provement the  union  of  scientific  knowledge  and  practical 
skill.  The  mariner  was  left  to  creep  along  the  coast,  while 
the  astronomer  was  casting  nativities  ;  and  the  miner  was 
reduced  to  the  most  laborious  and  purely  mechanical  process- 
es, to  extract  the  precious  metals  from  the  ores  that  really 
contained  them  ;  while  the  chemist,  who  ought  to  have  taught 
him  the  method  of  amalgamation,  could  find  no  use  for  mer- 
cury, but  as  a  menstruum,  by  which  baser  metals  could  be 
turned  into  gold. 

At  the  present  day,  this  state  of  things  is  certainly  changed. 
Popular  treatises  and  works  of  reference  have  made  the  great 
principles  of  natural  science  generally  accessible.  It  certainly 
is  in  the  power  of  almost  every  one,  by  pains  and  time 
properly  bestowed,  to  acquire  a  decent  knowledge  of  every 
branch  of  practical  philosophy.  But  still,  it  would  appear, 
that,  even  now,  this  part  of  education  is  not  on  the  right 
footing.  Generally  speaking,  even  now,  all  actual  instruction 
in  the  principles  of  natural  science  is  confined  to  the  colleges ; 
and  the  colleges  are,  for  the  most  part,  frequented  only  by 
those  intended  for  professional  life.  The  elementary  knowl- 
edge of  science  which  is  communicated  at  the  colleges  is, 
indeed,  useful  in  any  and  every  calling  ;  but  it  does  not  seem 
right,  that  none  but  those  intended  for  the  pulpit,  the  bar,  or 
the  profession  of  medicine,  should  receive  instruction  in  those 
principles  which  regulate  the  operation  of  the  mechanical 
powers,  and  lie  at  the  foundation  of  complicated  machinery  ; 
which  relate  to  the  navigation  of  the  seas,  the  smelting  and 
refining  of  metals,  the  composition  and  improvement  of  soils, 
the  reduction  to  a  uniform  whiteness  of  the  vegetable  fibre, 
the  mixture  and  application  of  colors,  the  motion  and  pressure 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.      249 

of  fluids  in  large  masses,  the  properties  of  light  and  heat,  the 
laws  of  magnetism,  electricity,  and  galvanism.  It  would 
seem  that  this  kind  of  knowledge  was  more  immediately 
requisite  for  those  who  are  to  be  employed  in  making  or  using 
labor-saving  machinery,  who  are  to  traverse  the  ocean,  to  lay 
out  and  direct  the  construction  of  canals  and  railroads,  to 
build  steam  engines  and  hydraulic  presses,  to  work  mines, 
and  to  conduct  large  agricultural  and  manufacturing  estab- 
lishments. Hitherto,  with  some  partial  exceptions,  little  has 
been  done  systematically  to  afford  to  those  engaged  in  these 
pursuits  that  knowledge,  which,  however  convenient  to 
others,  would  seem  essential  to  them.  There  has  been  scarce 
any  thing  which  could  be  called  education  for  practical  life  ; 
and  those  persons,  who,  in  the  pursuit  of  any  of  the  useful 
arts,  have  signalized  themselves,  by  the  employment  of  scien- 
tific principles,  for  the  invention  of  new  processes,  or  the 
improvement  of  the  old,  have  been  self-educated  men. 

I  am  aware  that  it  is  often  made  an  argument  against 
scientific  education,  that  the  greatest  discoveries  and  inventions 
have  been  either  the  production  of  such  self-educated  men,  or 
have  been  struck  out  by  accident.  There  certainly  is  some 
truth  in  this.  So  long  as  there  is  no  regular  system  of  scien- 
tific education  for  the  working  classes,  it  is  a  matter  of  neces- 
sity, that,  if  any  great  improvement  be  made,  it  must  be 
either  the  result  of  accident,  or  the  happy  thought  of  some 
powerful  native  genius,  who  forces  his  way,  without  educa- 
tion, to  the  most  astonishing  results.  This,  however,  is  no 
more  the  case,  with  respect  to  the  useful  arts  and  the  mechan- 
ical pursuits,  than  with  respect  to  all  the  other  occupations  of 
society  ;  and  it  would  continue  to  be  the  case,  after  the 
establishment  of  the  best  system  of  scientific  education.  We 
find,  in  every  pursuit  and  calling,  some  instances  of  remark- 
able men,  who,  without  an  early  education  adapted  to  the 
object,  have  raised  themselves  to  great  eminence.  Lord  Chan- 
cellor King,  in  England,  was  a  grocer  at  that  period  of  life 
which  is  commonly  spent  in  academical  study  by  those  des- 
tined for  the  profession  of  the  law.  Chief  Justice  Pratt,  of 
New  York,  having  been  brought  up  a  carpenter,  was  led  by 
VOL.  i.  32 


250    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

a  severe  cut  from  an  axe,  which  unfitted  him  for  work,  to 
turn  his  attention  to  the  law.  Franklin,  who  seemed  equally 
to  excel  in  the  conduct  of  the  ordinary  business  of  life,  in 
the  sublimest  studies  of  philosophy,  and  in  the  management 
of  the  most  difficult  state  affairs,  was  bred  a  printer.  All 
these  callings  are  quite  respectable,  but  no  one  would  think 
of  choosing  either  of  them  as  the  school  of  the  lawyer,  judge, 
or  statesman.  The  fact  that  the  native  power  of  genius 
sometimes  makes  its  way  against  all  obstacles  and  under 
every  discouragement,  proves  nothing  as  to  the  course  which 
it  is  expedient  for  the  generality  of  men  to  pursue.  The 
safe  path  to  excellence  and  success  in  every  calling  is  that 
of  appropriate  preliminary  education,  diligent  application  to 
learn  the  art,  and  assiduity  in  practising  it.  I  can  perceive 
no  reason  why  this  course  should  not  be  followed  in  refer- 
ence to  the  mechanical  as  well  as  the  professional  callings. 
The  instances  of  eminent  men,  like  those  named,  and  many 
others  that  might  be  named,  such  as  Arkwright  and  Harrison, 
who  have  sprung  from  the  depths  of  poverty  to  astonish  and 
benefit  mankind,  no  more  prove  that  education  is  useless  to 
the  mechanic,  than  the  corresponding  examples  prove  that  it 
is  useless  to  the  statesman,  jurist,  or  divine. 

Besides,  it  'will  perhaps  be  found  that  the  great  men,  like 
those  I  have  named,  instead  of  being  instances  to  show  that 
education  is  useless,  prove  only  that  occasionally  men  who 
commence  their  education  late  are  as  successful  as  those  who 
commence  it  early.  It  follows  from  this,  not  that  an  early 
education  is  no  benefit,  but  that  the  want  of  it  may  some- 
times be  made  up  in  later  years.  It  might  be  so  made  up,  no 
doubt,  oftener  than  it  is ;  and  it  is  in  this  country  much 
more  frequently  than  in  any  other. 

The  foundation  of  a  great  improvement  is,  also,  often  a 
single  conception,  which  suggests  itself  to  a  man  of  strong 
but  uneducated  mind,  and  who  has  the  good  fortune  after- 
wards to  receive  from  others  that  aid  in  executing  his  projects 
without  which  the  most  promising  conception  might  have 
perished  undeveloped.  Thus  Sir  Richard  Arkwright  wanted 
education,  but  was  endowed  with  a  wonderful  quickness  of 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     251 

mind.  What  particular  circumstances  awakened  his  mechan- 
ical taste  we  are  not  told.  There  is  some  reason  to  think 
that  this,  like  other  strongly-marked  aptitudes,  may  partly 
depend  on  the  peculiar  organization  of  the  body,  which  is 
exactly  the  same  in  no  two  men.  The  daily  observation  of 
the  operation  of  the  spinning-wheel,  in  the  cottages  of  the 
peasantry  of  Lancashire,  (England,)  gave  him  a  full  knowl- 
edge of  the  existing  state  of  the  art,  which  it  was  his  good 
fortune  to  improve,  to  a  degree  which  is  even  yet  the  won- 
der of  the  world.  He  conceived,  at  length,  the  idea  of  an 
improved  machine  for  spinning.  In  this  conception  —  not 
improbably  a  flash  across  the  mind,  the  work  of  an  instant  — 
lay  all  his  original  merit.  But  this  is  every  thing.  America 
was  discovered,  from  the  moment  that  Columbus  firmly 
grasped  the  idea  that,  the  earth  being  spherical,  the  Indies 
might  be  reached  by  sailing  on  a  westerly  course.  If  the 
actual  discovery  had  not  been  made  for  ages  after  the  death 
of  Columbus,  he  would,  nevertheless,  in  publishing  this  idea 
to  the  world,  have  been  the  pilot  that  led  the  way,  whoever 
had  followed  his  guidance.  Sir  Richard  Arkwright,  having 
formed  the  conception  of  his  spinning  machine,  had  recourse 
to  a  watchmaker  to  execute  his  idea.  But  how  rarely  could 
it  happen,  that  circumstances  would  put  it  in  the  power  of  a 
person,  —  himself  ignorant  and  poor,  —  to  engage  the  coop- 
eration of  an  intelligent  watchmaker ! 

Neither  is  it  intended  that  the  education  which  we  recom- 
mend should  extend  to  a  minute  acquaintance  with  the  prac- 
tical application  of  science  to  the  details  of  every  art.  This 
would  be  impossible,  and  does  not  belong  to  preparatory  edu- 
cation. We  wish  only  that  the  general  laws  and  principles 
should  be  so  taught,  as  greatly  to  multiply  the  number  of 
persons  competent  to  carry  forward  such  casual  suggestions 
of  improvement  as  may  present  themselves,  and  to  bring  their 
art  to  that  state  of  increasing  excellence  which  all  arts  reach 
by  long-continued,  intelligent  cultivation. 

It  may  further  be  observed,  with  respect  to  those  great  dis- 
coveries which  seem  to  be  produced  by  happy  accidents  and 
fortuitous  suggestion,  that  such  happy  accidents  are  most 


252    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLE1  GE, 

likely  to  fall  in  the  way  of  those  who  are  on  the  lookout  for 
them  —  those  whose  mental  eyesight  has  been  awakened  and 
practised  to  behold  them.  The  world  is  informed  of  all  the 
cases  in  which  such  fortunate  accidents  have  led  to  useful  and 
brilliant  results;  but  their  number  would  probably  appear 
smaller  than  it  is  now  supposed  to  be,  were  such  a  thing  possi- 
ble as  the  negative  history  of  discovery  and  improvement.  No 
one  can  tell  us  what  might  have  been  done,  had  every  oppor- 
tunity been  faithfully  improved,  every  suggestion  sagaciously 
caught  up  and  followed  out.  No  one  can  tell  how  often  the 
uneducated  or  unobservant  mind  has  approached  to  the  very 
verge  of  a  great  discovery, — has  had  some  wonderful  invention 
almost  thrust  upon  it, — but  without  effect.  The  ancients,  as 
we  learn  from  many  passages  in  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics, 
were  acquainted  with  convex  lenses,  but  did  not  apply  them 
to  the  construction  of  magnifying  glasses  or  telescopes. 
They  made  use  of  seal-rings  with  inscriptions,  and  they 
marked  their  flocks  with  brands  containing  the  owner's 
name.  In  each  of  these  practices  faint  rudiments  of  the  art 
of  printing  are  concealed.  Cicero,  in  one  of  his  moral  works, 
(De  Natura  Deorum,)  in  confuting  the  error  of  those  philoso- 
phers who  taught  that  the  world  is  produced  by  the  fortuitous 
concourse  of  wandering  atoms,  uses  the  following  language, 
as  curious,  in  connection  with  the  point  I  would  illustrate, 
as  it  is  beautiful  in  expression  and  powerful  in  argument : 
"  Here,"  says  he,  "  must  I  not  wonder  if  there  should  be  a 
man  who  can  persuade  himself  that  certain  solid  and  separate 
bodies  are  borne  about  by  force  or  weight,  and  that  this  most 
beautiful  and  finished  world  is  formed  by  their  accidental 
meeting  ?  Whoever  can  think  this  possible,  I  do  not  see  why 
he  cannot  also  believe  that,  if  a  large  number  of  forms  of  the 
one  and  twenty  letters  (of  gold  or  any  like  substance)  were 
thrown  any  where  together,  the  Annals  of  Ennius  might  be 
made  out  from  them,  as  tht  y  are  cast  on  the  ground,  so  as  to 
be  read  in  order ;  a  thing  \vhich  I  know  not  if  it  be  within 
the  power  of  chance  to  effect,  even  in  a  single  verse.'5  How 
very  near  an  approach  is  made,  in  this  remark,  to  the  inven- 
tion of  the  art  of  printing,  fifteen  hundred  years  before  it 
too  <• 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     253 

How  slight  and  familiar  was  the  occurrence  which  gave  to 
Sir  Isaac  Newton  the  first  suggestion  of  his  system  of  the 
universe !  This  great  man  had  been  driven,  by  the  plague, 
from  London  to  the  country,  and  had  left  his  library  behind 
him.  Obliged  to  find  occupation  in  the  activity  of  his  own 
mind,  he  was  led,  in  his  meditations,  to  trace  the  extent  of  the 
principle  which  occasioned  the  fall  of  an  apple  from  the  tree, 
in  the  garden  where  he  passed  his  solitary  hours.  Commen- 
cing with  this  familiar  hint,  he  followed  it  out  to  that  univer- 
sal law  of  gravity  which  binds  the  parts  of  the  earth  and 
ocean  together,  which  draws  the  moon  to  the  earth,  the  satel- 
lites to  the  planets,  the  planets  to  the  sun,  and  the  sun  itself, 
with  its  attendant  worlds,  towards  some  grand  and  general 
point  of  attraction  for  that  infinity  of  systems,  of  which  the 
several  stars  are  the  centres.  How  many  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  men,  since  the  creation  of  the  world,  had  seen  an 
apple  fall  from  a  tree  !  How  many  philosophers  had  specu- 
lated profoundly  on  the  system  of  the  universe !  But  it  re- 
quired the  talent  of  a  man  placed,  by  general  consent,  at  the 
head  of  philosophers,  to  deduce  from  this  familiar  occur- 
rence on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  the  operation  of  the  pri- 
mordial law  of  nature,  which  governs  the  movements  of  the 
heavens,  and  holds  the  universe  together.  Nothing  less  than 
his  sagacity  could  have  made  the  deduction,  and  nothing  less 
than  a  mathematical  skill,  and  an  acquaintance  with  the  pre- 
viously ascertained  principles  of  science,  such  as  falls  to  the 
lot  of  very  few,  would  have  enabled  Newton  to  demonstrate 
the  truth  of  his  system. 

Let  us  quote  another  example,  to  show  that  the  most  obvi- 
ous and  familiar  facts  may  be  noticed  for  ages  without  effect, 
till  they  are  observed  by  a  sagacious  eye,  and  scrutinized 
with  patience  and  perseverance.  The  appearance  of  light- 
ning in  the  clouds  is  as  old  as  the  creation ;  and  certainly,  no 
natural  phenomenon  forces  itself  more  directly  on  the  notice 
of  men.  The  existence  of  the  electric  fluid,  as  excited  by 
artificial  means,  was  familiarly  known  to  philosophers  a  hun- 
dred years  before  Franklin ;  and  there  are  a  few  vague  sug- 
gestions, prior  to  his  time,  that  lightning  is  ail  electrical 


254    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE 

appearance.  But  it  was  left  for  Franklin  distinctly  to  con- 
ceive that  proposition,  and  to  institute  an  experiment  by 
which  it  should  be  demonstrated.  The  process  by  which  he 
reached  this  great  conclusion  is  worth  remembering.  Dr 
Franklin  had  seen  the  most  familiar  electrical  experiments 
performed  at  Boston,  in  1745,  by  a  certain  Dr  Spence,  a 
Scotch  lecturer.  His  curiosity  being  thus  excited,  he  pur- 
chased the  whole  of  Dr  Spence's  apparatus,  and  repeated,  the 
experiments  at  Philadelphia.  Pursuing  his  researches  with 
his  own  instruments,  and  others  which  had  been  liberally 
presented  to  the  province  of  Pennsylvania  by  the  proprietor, 
Mr  Penn,  and  by  Dr  Franklin's  friend,  Mr  Collinson,  our 
illustrious  countryman  rapidly  enlarged  the  bounds  of  elec- 
trical science,  and  soon  arrived  at  the  undoubting  conviction 
that  the  electrical  fluid  and  lightning  are  identical.  But  he 
could  not  rest  till  he  had  brought  this  truth  to  the  test  of 
demonstration,  and  he  boldly  set  about  an  experiment  upon 
the  most  terrific  element  in  nature.  He  at  first  proposed,  by 
means  of  a  spire  which  was  erecting  in  Philadelphia,  to  form 
a  connection  between  the  region  of  the  clouds  and  an  elec- 
trical apparatus  ;  but  the  appearance  of  a  boy's  kite  in  the  air 
suggested  to  him  a  readier  method.  Having  prepared  a  kite, 
adapted  for  the  purpose,  he  went  out  into  a  field,  accompanied 
by  his  son,  to  whom  alone  he  had  imparted  his  design.  The 
kite  was  raised,  having  a  key  attached  to  the  lower  end  of 
the  cord,  and  being  insulated  by  means  of  a  silken  thread, 
by  which  it  was  fastened  to  a  post.  A  heavy  cloud,  appa 
rently  charged  with  lightning,  passed  over  the  kite ;  but  no 
signs  of  electricity  were  witnessed  in  the  apparatus.  Frank- 
lin was  beginning  to  despair,  when  he  saw  the  loose  fibres 
bristling  from  the  hempen  cord.  He  immediately  presented 
his  knuckle  to  the  key,  and  received  the  electrical  spark. 
Overcome  by  his  feelings  at  the  consummation  of  this  great 
discovery,  "he  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and,  conscious  of  an  im- 
mortal name,  felt  that  he  could  have  been  content,  had  that 
moment  been  his  last."  How  easily  it  might  have  been  his 
last  was  shown  by  the  fact  that  when  Professor  Richman,  a 
few  months  afterwards,  was  repeating  this  experiment  at  St 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     255 

Petersburg,  a  globe  of  fire  flashed  from  the  conducting  rod 
o  his  forehead,  and  killed  him  on  the  spot. 

Brilliant  as  Dr  Franklin's  discoveries  in  electricity  were, 
and  much  as  he  advanced  the  science  by  his  sagacious  exper- 
iments and  unwearied  investigations,  a  rich  harvest  of  further 
discoveries  was  left  by  him  to  the  succeeding  age.  The 
most  extraordinary  of  these  is  the  discovery  of  a  modification 
of  electricity,  which  bears  the  name  of  the  philosopher  by 
whom  it  was  made  known  to  the  world.  I  refer,  of  course, 
to  galvanism.  Lewis  Galvani  was  an  anatomist,  in  Bologna. 
On  a  table  in  his  study  lay  some  frogs,  which  had  been  pre- 
pared tor  a  broth  for  his  wife,  who  was  ill.  An  electrical 
machine  stood  on  the  table.  A  student  of  Galvani  accident- 
ally touched  the  nerve  on  the  inside  of  the  leg  of  one  of 
the  frogs,  and  convulsions  immediately  took  place  in  the  body 
of  the  animal.  Galvani  himself  was  not  present  at  the  mo- 
ment, but  this  curious  circumstance  caught  the  attention  of 
his  wife,  —  a  lady  of  education  and  talent,  —  who  ascribed  it 
to  some  influence  of  the  electrical  machine.  She  informed 
her  husband  of  what  had  happened,  and  it  was  his  opinion 
also,  that  the  electrical  machine  was  the  origin  of  the  convul- 
sions. A  long-continued  and  patient  course  of  investigation 
corrected  this  error,  and  established  the  science  of  galvanic 
electricity,  nearly  as  it  now  exists,  and  which  has  proved, 
in  the  hands  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy  and  his  successors,  the 
agent  of  the  most  brilliant  and  astonishing  discoveries. 
Frogs  have  been  a  common  article  of  food  in  Europe  for 
ages  ;  but  it  was  only  when  they  were  brought  into  the  study 
of  the  anatomist,  and  fell  beneath  the  notice  of  a  sagacious 
eye,  that  they  became  the  occasion  of  this  brilliant  discovery. 

In  all  these  examples  we  see,  that,  whatever  be  the  first 
origin  of  a  great  discovery  or  improvement,  science  and  study 
are  requirad  to  perfect  and  illustrate  it.  The  want  of  a 
knowledge  of  the  principles  of  science  has  often  led  men  to 
waste  much  time  on  pursuits  which  a  better  acquaintance 
with  those  principles  would  have  taught  them  were  hopeless. 
The  patent  office,  in  every  country  where  such  an  institution 
exists,  contains,  perhaps,  as  many  machines  which  show  th 


25G     IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

want,  as  the  possession,  of  sound  scientific  knowledge.  Be- 
sides unsuccessful  essays  at  machinery,  holding  forth  a  promise 
of  feasibility,  no  little  ingenuity,  and  much  time  and  money, 
have  been  lavished  on  a  project  which  seems,  in  modern 
times,  to  supply  the  place  of  the  philosopher's  stone  of  the 
alchemists  ;  —  I  mean,  a  contrivance  for  perpetual  motion  ;  a 
contrivance  inconsistent  with  the  law  of  gravity.  A  familiar 
icquaintance  with  the  principles  of  science  is  useful,  not  only 
to  guide  the  mind  to  the  discovery  of  what  is  true  and  prac- 
tical, but  to  protect  it  from  the  delusions  of  an  excited 
imagination,  ready  to  waste  itself,  in  the  ardor  of  youth, 
enterprise,  and  conscious  ingenuity,  on  that  which  the  laws 
of  Nature  herself  have  made  unattainable. 

Such  are  some  of  the  considerations  which  show  the  gen- 
eral utility  of  scientific  education  for  those  engaged  in  the 
mechanical  arts.  Let  us  now  advert  to  some  of  the  circum- 
stances which  ought,  particularly  in  the  United  States  of 
America,  to  encourage  the  young  men  of  the  country  to 
apply  themselves  earnestly,  and,  as  far  as  it  can  be  done, 
systematically,  to  the  attainment  of  such  an  education. 

I.  And,  first,  it  is  beyond  all  question,  that  what  are  called 
the  mechanical  trades  of  this  country  are  on  a  much  more 
liberal  footing  than  they  are  in  Europe.  This  circumstance 
not  only  ought  to  encourage  those  who  pursue  them  to  take  an 
honest  pride  in  improvement,  but  it  makes  it  their  incumbent 
duty  to  do  so.  In  almost  every  country  of  Europe,  various 
restraints  are  imposed  on  the  mechanics,  which  almost  amount 
to  slavery.  Much  censure  has  been  lately  thrown  on  the 
journeymen  printers  of  Paris,  for  entering  into  combinations 
not  to  work  for  their  employers,  and  for  breaking  up  the 
power  presses  which  were  used  by  the  great  employing 
printers.  I  certainly  shall  not  undertake  to  justify  any  acts 
of  illegal  violence,  and  the  destruction  of  property.  But, 
when  you  consider  that  no  man  can  be  a  master  printer  in 
France  without  a  license,  and  that  only  eighty  licenses  were 
granted  in  Paris,  it  is  by  no  means  wonderful  that  the  jour- 
neymen, forbidden  by  law  to  set  up  for  themselves,  and  pre- 
vented by  the  power  presses  from  getting  work  from  others 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.    257 

should  be  disposed,  after  having  carried  through  one  revolu- 
tion for  the  government,  to  undertake  another  for  themselves. 
Of  what  consequence  is  it  to  a  man,  forbidden  by  the  law  to 
work  for  his  living,  whether  Charles  X.  or  Louis  Philippe  is 
king  ? 

In  England,  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  for  any  person  to 
obtain  a  settlement  in  any  place  except  that  in  which  he  was 
born,  or  where  he  served  his  apprenticeship.  The  object  of 
imposing  these  restrictions  is,  of  course,  to  enforce  on  each 
parish  the  maintenance  of  its  native  poor ;  and  the  resort  of 
mechanics  from  place  to  place  is  permitted  only  on  conditions 
with  which  few  are  able  to  comply.  The  consequence  is, 
they  are  obliged  to  stay  where  they  were  born,  —  where, 
perhaps,  there  are  already  more  hands  than  can  find  work,  — 
and,  from  the  decline  of  the  place,  even  the  established  artisans 
want  employment.  Chained  to  such  a  spot  by  chance  and 
necessity,  the  young  man  feels  himself  but  half  free.  He  is 
thwarted  in  his  choice  of  a  pursuit  for  life,  and  obliged  to 
take  up  with  an  employment  against  his  preference,  because 
there  is  no  opening  in  any  other.  He  is  depressed  in  his  own 
estimation,  because  he  finds  himself  unprotected  in  society. 
The  least  evil  likely  to  befall  him  is,  that  he  drags  along  a 
discouraged  and  unproductive  existence.  He  more  naturally 
falls  into  dissipation  and  vice,  or  enlists  in  the  army  or  navy ; 
while,  by  the  repetition  of  this  operation,  the  place  of  his 
nativity  constantly  sinks  still  further  into  decay. 

In  other  countries,  singular  institutions  exist,  imposing 
oppressive  burdens  on  the  mechanical  classes.  I  refer  now 
more  particularly  to  the  corporations,  guilds,  or  crafts,  as  they 
are  called  ;  that  is,  to  the  companies  formed  by  the  members 
of  a  particular  trade.  These  exist,  with  great  privileges,  in 
every  part  of  Europe  :  in  Germany,  there  are  some  features 
in  the  institution,  as  it  seems  to  me,  peculiarly  oppressive. 
The  different  crafts  in  that  country  are  incorporations,  recog- 
nized by  law,  governed  by  usages  of  great  antiquity,  with 
funds  to  defray  the  corporate  expenses ;  and  in  each  consider- 
able town  a  house  of  entertainment  is  selected,  as  the  house 
VOL.  i.  33 


258     IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

of  call  (or  harbor,  as  it  is  styled*)  of  each  particular  craft. 
No  one  is  allowed  to  set  up  as  a  master  workman  in  any 
trade,  unless  he  is  admitted  as  a  freeman,  or  member  of  the 
craft  ;  and  such  is  the  stationary  condition  of  most  parts  ol 
Germany,  that,  as  I  understand,  no  person  is  admitted  as  a 
master  workman  in  any  trade,  except  to  supply  the  place  of 
some  one  deceased  or  retired  from  business.  When  such  a 
vacancy  occurs,  all  those  desirous  of  being  permitted  to  fill  it 
present  a  piece  of  work,  which  is  called  their  masterpiece, 
being  offered  as  a  test  of  fitness  for  the  place  of  a  master 
workman.  Nominally,  the  best  workman  gets  the  place  ;  but 
you  will  easily  conceive,  that,  in  reality,  some  kind  of  favor- 
itism must  generally  decide  the  question.  Thus  is  every  man 
obliged  to  submit  to  all  the  chances  of  a  popular  election, 
whether  he  shall  be  allowed  to  work  for  his  bread  ;  and  that, 
too,  in  a  country  where  the  people  are  not  permitted  to  have 
any  agency  in  choosing  their  rulers. 

But  the  restraints  on  journeymen  in  that  country  are  still 
more  oppressive.  As  soon  as  the  years  of  apprenticeship 
have  expired,  the  young  mechanic  is  obliged,  in  the  phrase 
of  the  country,  to  wander,  for  three  years.  For  this  purpose, 
he  is  furnished,  by  the  master  of  the  craft  in  which  he  has 
served  his  apprenticeship,  with  a  duly-authenticated  wandering 
book,  with  which  he  goes  forth  to  seek  employment.  In 
whatever  city  he  arrives,  on  presenting  himself  with  this 
credential  at  the  house  of  call  or  harbor  of  the  craft  in  which 
he  has  served  his  time,  he  is  allowed,  gratis,  a  day's  food  and 
a  night's  lodging.  If  he  wishes  to  get  employment  in  that 
place,  he  is  assisted  in  procuring  it.  If  he  does  not  wish  to 
get  employment,  or  fails  in  the  attempt,  he  must  pursue  his 
wandering  ;  and  this  lasts  for  three  years,  before  he  can  be 
any  where  admitted  as  a  master.  I  have  heard  it  argued  that 
this  system  had  the  advantage  of  circulating  knowledge  from 
place  to  place,  and  imparting  to  the  young  artisan  the  fruits 
of  travel  and  intercourse  with  the  world.  But,  however 
beneficial  travelling  may  be,  when  undertaken  by  those  who 

*  Die  Herberge. 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     259 

have  the  character  and  capacity  to  profit  by  it,  I  cannot  but 
think,  that  to  compel  every  young  man  who  has  just  served 
out  his  time  to  leave  his  home  in  the  manner  I  have  described, 
must  bring  his  habits  and  morals  into  peril,  and  be  regarded 
rather  as  a  hardship  than  as  an  advantage.  There  is  no 
sanctuary  of  virtue  like  home. 

You  will  see,  from  these  few  hints,  the  nature  of  some  of 
the  restraints  and  oppressions  to  which  the  mechanical  indus- 
try of  Europe  is  subjected.  Wherever  governments  and 
corporations  thus  interfere  with  private  industry,  the  spring 
of  personal  enterprise  is  broken.  Men  are  depressed  with  a 
consciousness  of  living  under  control.  They  cease  to  feel  a 
responsibility  for  themselves ;  and,  encountering  obstacles 
whenever  they  step  from  the  beaten  path,  they  give  up 
improvement  as  hopeless.  I  need  not,  in  the  presence  of  this 
audience,  remark  on  the  total  difference  of  things  in  America. 
We  are  apt  to  think  that  the  only  thing  in  which  we  have 
improved  on  other  countries  is  our  political  constitution, 
whereby  we  choose  our  rulers,  instead  of  recognizing  their 
hereditary  right.  But  a  much  more  important  difference 
between  us  and  most  foreign  countries  is  wrought  into  the 
very  texture  of  our  society ;  it  is  that  generally  pervading 
freedom  from  restraint  in  matters  like  those  I  have  just  speci- 
fied. In  England,  it  is  said  that  forty  days'  undisturbed 
residence  in  a  parish  gives  a  journeyman  mechanic  a  settle- 
ment, and  consequently  entitles  him,  should  he  need  it,  to 
support  from  the  poor  rates  of  that  parish.  To  obviate  this 
effect,  the  magistrates  are  on  the  alert,  and  instantly  expel  a 
'new  comer  from  their  limits,  who  does  not  possess  means  of. 
giving  security,  such  as  few  young  mechanics  command.  A 
duress  like  this,  environing  the  young  man,  on  his  entrance 
into  life,  upon  every  side,  and  condemning  him  to  imprison- 
ment for  life  on  the  spot  where  he  was  born,  converts  the 
government  of  the  country,  whatever  be  its  name,  into  a 
despotism.* 


*  The  settlement  law  of  England  has  been  altered  of  late  years,  but  to 
what  extent  I  am  uninformed,  (1850.) 


260    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

II.  There  is  another  consideration  which  invites  the  arti- 
sans of  this  country  to  improve  their  minds  ;  it  is  the  vastly 
wider  field  which  is  opened  to  them  as  the  citizens  of  a  new 
country,  and  the  proportionate  call  which  exists  for  labor  and 
enterprise  in  every  department.  In  the  old  world,  society  is 
full.  In  every  country  but  England  it  has  long  been  full. 
It  was  in  that  country  not  less  crowded,  till  the  vast  improve- 
ments in  machinery  and  manufacturing  industry  were  made, 
which  have  rendered  it,  in  reference  to  manufactures  and 
commerce,  —  what  ours  is  still  more  remarkably  in  every 
thing.  —  a  new  country  ;  a  country  of  urgent  and  expansive 
demand,  where  new  branches  of  employment  are  constantly 
opening,  new  kinds  of  talent  called  for,  new  arts  struck  out, 
and  more  hands  employed  in  all  the  old  ones.  In  different 
parts  of  our  country,  the  demand  is  of  a  different  kind,  but 
it  is  active  and  stirring  every  where. 

It  may  not  be  without  use  to  consider  the  various  causes 
of  this  enlargement  of  the  field  of  action  in  this  country. 

The  first  and  perhaps  the  main  cause  is,  the  great  abun- 
dance of  good  land  which  lies  open,  on  the  easiest  conditions, 
to  every  man  who  wishes  to  avail  himself  of  it.  Land  of 
the  first  quality  can  be  purchased  at  the  rate  of  one  dollar 
and  twenty-five  cents  per  acre.  This  circumstance  alone 
acts  like  a  safety  valve  to  the  great  social  steam  engine. 
There  can  be  no  very  great  pressure  any  where  in  a  com- 
munity where,  by  travelling  a  few  hundred  miles  into  the 
interior,  a  man  can  buy  land  at  the  rate  of  an  acre  for  a  day's 
work.  This  was  the  first  stimulus  brought  to  act  upon  the 
population  of  this  country,  after  the  revolutionary  war,  and 
it  is  still  operating  in  full  force. 

The  next  powerful  spring  to  our  industry  was  felt  in  the 
navigating  interest.  This  languished  greatly  under  the  old 
'confederation,  being  crushed  by  foreign  competition.  The 
adoption  of  the  constitution  breathed  the  breath  of  life  into 
it.  By  the  duty  on  foreign  tonnage,  and  by  the  confinement 
of  the  privilege  of  an  American  vessel  to  an  American  built 
ship,  our  commercial  marine  sprang  into  existence  almost 
with  the  rapidity  of  magic,  and,  under  a  peculiar  state  of 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     261 

things  in  Europe,  appropriated  to  itself  the  carrying  trade  of 
the  world. 

Shortly  after  this  stimulus  was  applied  to  the  industry  of 
the  Northern  and  Middle  States,  the  Southern  States  acquired 
an  equally  prolific  source  of  wealth,  unexpected  and  rapid 
beyond  example  in  its  operation,  —  I  mean  the  cultivation 
of  cotton.  In  1789,  the  hope  was  expressed,  by  southern 
members  of  Congress,  that  if  good  seed  could  be  procured, 
cotton  might  be  raised  in  the  Southern  States,  where,  before 
that  time,  and  for  several  years  after,  not  a  pound  had  been 
raised  for  exportation.  The  culture  of  this  beautiful  staple 
was  encouraged  by  a  duty  of  three  cents  a  pound  on  imported 
cotton ;  but  it  languished  for  some  time,  on  account  of  the 
difficulty  of  separating  the  seed  from  the  fibre.  At  length, 
Eli  Whitney,  of  Connecticut,  invented  the  saw-gin ;  and  so 
prodigiously  has  this  culture  increased,  that  it  is  calculated 
that  the  cotton  crop  of  last  year  amounted  to  one  million  of 
bales,  of  at  least  three  hundred  pounds  each.* 

In  1807,  the  first  successful  essays  were  made  with  steam 
navigation,  but  the  progress,  for  a  long  time,  was  slow.  In 
1817,  there  was  not  such  a  thing  as  a  regular  line  of  steam- 
boats on  the  western  waters.  Nearly  four  hundred  f  steam- 
boats now  ply  those  waters,  and  half  as  many  navigate  the 
waters  of  the  Atlantic  coast. 

The  embargo  and  war  of  1812  created  the  manufactures  of 
the  United  States.  Before  that  period,  nothing  was  done  on  a 
large  scale  in  the  way  of  manufactures.  With  some  fluctua- 
tions in  prosperity,  they  have  succeeded  in  establishing  them- 
selves on  a  firm  basis.  A  laboring  man  can  now  buy  two 
good  shirts,  well  made,  for  a  dollar.  Fifteen  years  ago,  they 
would  have  cost  him  three  times  that  sum. 

Still  more  recently,  a  system  of  internal  improvements  has 
been  commenced,  which  will  have  the  effect,  when  a  little 
further  developed,  of  crowding  within  a  few  years  the  prog- 
ress of  generations.  Already,  Lake  Champlain  from  the 

*  The  annual  crop  of  cotton  now  exceeds  two  million  bales,  (1850.) 
f  Above  eight  hundred  in  1850. 


262    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

north,  and  Lake  Erie  from  the  west,  have  been  connected 
with  Albany.  The  Delaware  and  Chesapeake  Bays  have 
been  united  A  canal  is  nearly  finished  in  the  upper  part  of 
New  Jersey,  from  the  Delaware  to  the  Hudson,  by  which 
coal  is  already  despatched  to  our  market.  Another  route  is 
laid  out,  across  the  same  state,  to  connect  New  York  by  a 
railroad  with  Philadelphia.  A  water  communication  has 
been  opened,  by  canals,  half  way  from  Philadelphia  to  Pitts- 
burg.  Considerable  progress  is  made,  both  on  the  railroad 
and  the  canal,  which  are  to  unite  Baltimore  and  Washington 
with  the  Ohio  River.  A  canal  of  sixty  miles  in  length  is 
open,  from  Cincinnati  to  Dayton,  in  the  state  of  Ohio ;  and 
another,  of  more  than  three  hundred  miles  in  extent,  to  con- 
nect Lake  Erie  with  the  Ohio,  is  two  thirds  completed.* 

I  mention  these  facts  —  which,  though  among  the  most 
considerable,  are  by  no  means  all  of  the  same  character 
which  might  be  quoted  —  not  merely  as  being  in  themselves 
curious  and  important ;  though  this  they  are  in  a  high  degree. 
My  object  is,  to  turn  your  attention  to  their  natural  effect,  in 
keeping  up  a  constant  and  high  demand  for  labor,  art,  skill, 
and  talent  of  all  kinds,  and  their  accumulated  fruits,  —  that  is, 
capital,  —  and  thereby  particularly  inviting  the  young  to  exert 
themselves  strenuously,  to  take  an  active,  industrious,  and 
honorable  part  in  a  community  which  has  such  a  variety  of 
employments  and  rewards  for  all  its  members.  The  rising 
generation  beholds  before  it,  not  a  crowded  community,  but 
one  where  labor,  both  of  body  and  mind,  is  in  greater  request, 
and  bears  a  higher  relative  price,  than  in  any  other  country. 
When  it  is  said  that  labor  is  dear  in  this  country,  this  is  not 
a  mere  commercial  fact,  like  those  which  fill  the  pages  of  the 
price  current ;  but  it  is  a  great  moral  fact,  speaking  volumes, 
as  to  the  state  of  society,  and  reminding  the  American  citi- 
zen, particularly  the  young  man  who  is  beginning  life,  that 
he  lives  in  a  country  where  every  man  carries  about  with 

*  Most  of  the  works  here  mentioned  as  being  in  progress  in  1827, 
are  now  (1850)  completed,  and  innumerable  others  have  since  been  un- 
dertaken or  projected,  among  them  the  great  system  which  centres  in 
Boston. 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUITS      263 

him  the  thing  in  greatest  request ;  where  the  labor  and  skill 
of  the  human  hands,  and  every  kind  of  talent  and  acquisition, 
possess  a  relative  importance  elsewhere  unknown ;  in  other 
words,  where  an  industrious  man  is  of  the  greatest  conse- 
quence. 

These  considerations  are  well  calculated  to  awaken  enter- 
prise, to  encourage  effort,  to  support  perseverance;  and  we 
behold,  on  every  side,  that  such  is  their  effect.  I  have  al- 
ready alluded  to  the  astonishing  growth  of  our  navigation, 
after  the  adoption  of  the  federal  constitution.  It  affords  an 
example,  which  will  bear  dwelling  upon,  of  American  enter- 
prise, placed  in  honorable  contrast  with  that  of  Europe.  In 
Great  Britain,  and  in  other  countries  of  Europe,  the  India 
and  China  trade  was,  and  to  a  great  degree  still  is,  locked  up 
by  the  monopoly  enjoyed  by  affluent  companies,  protected 
and  patronized  by  the  state,  and  clothed,  themselves,  in  some 
cases,  with  imperial  power.  The  territories  of  the  British 
East  India  Company  are  computed  to  embrace  a  population 
of  one  hundred  and  fifteen  millions  of  souls.  The  conse- 
quence of  this  state  of  things  was,  not  the  activity,  but  the 
embarrassment,  of  the  commercial  intercourse  with  the  East. 
Individual  enterprise  was  not  awakened.  The  companies 
sent  out  annually  their  unwieldy  vessels,  of  twelve  hundred 
tons  burden,  commanded  by  salaried  captains,  to  carry  on  the 
commerce  which  was  secured  to  them  by  a  government  mo- 
nopoly, and  which,  it  was  firmly  believed,  could  not  be  carried 
on  in  any  other  way.  Scarcely  was  American  independence 
declared,  when  our  moderate-sized  merchant  vessels,  built 
with  economy  and  navigated  with  frugality,  doubled  both 
the  great  capes  of  the  world.  The  north-western  coast  of 
America  began  to  be  crowded.  Not  content  with  visiting 
old  markets,  our  intelligent  ship-masters  explored  the  numer- 
ous islands  of  the  Indian  Archipelago.  Vessels  from  Salem 
and  Boston,  of  two  and  three  hundred  tons,  went  to  ports  in 
those  seas  that  had  not  been  visited  by  a  foreign  ship  since 
the  days  of  Alexander  the  Great.  The  intercourse  between 
Boston  and  the  Sandwich  Islands  was  uninterrupted.  A  man 
would  no  more  have  thought  of  boasting  that  he  had  been 


264    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

round  the  world,  than  that  he  had  been  to  Liverpool.  After 
Lord  Anson  and  Captain  Cook  had,  by  order  and  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  British  government,  made  their  laborious  voyages 
of  discovery  and  exploration  in  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  on  the 
coast  of  America,  it  still  remained  for  a  merchant  vessel, 
from  Boston,  to  discover  and  enter  the  only  considerable  river 
that  flows  into  the  Pacific,  from  Behring's  Strait  to  Cape 
Horn.  Our  townsman,  Captain  Gray,  piloted  the  British 
admiral  Vancouver  into  the  Columbia  River,  over  which  the 
British  government  now  claims  jurisdiction,  partly  on  the 
ground  of  prior  discovery. 

This  is  a  single  instance  of  the  propitious  effect,  on  indi- 
vidual enterprise,  of  the  condition  of  things  under  which  we 
live.  But  the  work  is  not  all  done  ;  it  is,  in  fact,  hardly 
begun.  This  vast  continent  is.  as  yet,  nowhere  fully 
stocked  —  almost  every  where  thinly  peopled.  There  are 
yet  mighty  regions  of  it  in  which  the  settler's  axe  has  never 
been  heard.  These  remain,  and  portions  of  them  will  long 
remain,  open  for  coming  generations,  a  sure  preservative 
against  the  evils  of  a  redundant  population  on  the  seaboard. 
The  older  parts  of  the  country,  which  have  been  settled  by 
the  husbandman,  and  reclaimed  from  the  state  of  nature,  are 
now  to  be  settled  again  by  the  manufacturer,  the  engineer, 
and  the  mechanic.  First  settled  by  a  civilized,  they  are  now 
to  be  settled  by  a  dense,  population.  Settled  by  the  hard 
labor  of  the  human  hands,  they  are  now  to  be  settled  by  the 
labor-saving  arts,  by  machinery,  by  the  steam  engine,  and  by 
internal  improvements.  Hitherto,  the  work  to  be  done  was 
that  which  nothing  but  the  tough  sinews  of  the  arm  of  man 
could  accomplish.  This  work,  in  most  of  the  old  states,  and 
some  of  the  new  ones,  has  been  done,  and  is  finished.  It 
was  performed  under  incredible  hardships,  fearful  dangers, 
with  heart-sickening  sacrifices,  amidst  the  perils  of  savage 
tribes,  and  of  the  diseases  incident  to  a  soil  on  which  deep 
forests  for  a  thousand  years  had  been  laying  their  deposit,  and 
which  was  now,  for  the  first  time,  opened  to  the  sun.  The 
kind,  the  intensity,  of  the  labor  which  has  been  performed  by 
the  men  who  settled  this  country,  have,  I  am  sure,  no  parallel 


AND    ENCO  ^rtAUEMEJSTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     265 

in  history.  I  believe,  if  a  thrifty  European  farmer  from 
Norfolk,  in  England,  or  from  Flanders,  a  vine-dresser  from 
Burgundy,  an  olive-gardener  from  Italy,  under  the  influence 
of  no  stronger  feelings  than  such  as  actuate  the  mass  of  the 
stationary  population  of  those  countries,  were  set  down  in  a 
North  American  forest  with  an  axe  on  his  shoulder,  and  told 
to  get  his  living,  that  his  heart  would  fail  him  at  the  sight. 
What  has  been  the  slow  work  of  two  thousand  years  in 
Europe,  has  here  been  effected  in  two  hundred,  unquestion- 
ably under  the  moral  influence  of  our  political  system.  We 
have  now,  in  some  parts  of  the  United  States,  reached  a  point 
in  our  progress,  where,  to  a  considerable  degree,  a  new  form 
of  society  will  appear ;  in  which  the  wants  of  a  settled  coun- 
try and  a  comparatively  dense  population  will  succeed  to 
those  of  a  thin  population,  scattered  over  a  soil  as  yet  but 
partially  reclaimed.  We  shall  henceforth  feel  more  and  more 
the  want  of  improved  means  of  communication.  We  must, 
in  every  direction,  have  turnpike  roads,  unobstructed  rivers, 
canals,  railroads,  and  steamboats.  The  mineral  treasures  of 
the  earth  —  metals,  coals,  ochres,  fine  clay,  limestone,  gyp- 
sum, salt  —  are  to  be  brought  to  light,  and  applied  to  the 
purposes  of  the  arts  and  the  service  of  man.  Another  im- 
mense capital  which  Nature  has  invested  for  us,  in  the  form 
of  water  power,  (a  natural  capital,  which  I  take  to  be  fully 
equal  to  the  steam  capital  of  Great  Britain,)  is  to  be  turned  to 
account,  by  being  made  to  give  motion  to  machinery.  Still 
another  vast  capital,  lying  unproductive,  in  the  form  of  land, 
is  to  be  realized,  and  no  small  part  of  it,  for  the  first  time,  by 
improved  cultivation.  All  the  manufactures  are  to  be  intro- 
duced on  a  large  scale  ;  the  coarser,  where  it  has  not  been 
done,  without  delay  ;  and  the  finer  in  rapid  succession,  and 
in  proportion  to  the  acquisition  of  skill,  the  accumulation  of 
capital,  and  the  improvement  of  machinery.  With  these  will 
grow  up,  or  increase,  the  demand  for  various  institutions  for 
education  ;  the  call  for  every  species  of  intellectual  service  ; 
the  need  for  every  kind  of  professional  assistance,  a  demand 
rendered  still  more  urgent  by  a  political  organization,  of  itself 
VOL.  i.  34 


266    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

in  the  highest  degree  favorable  to  the  creation  and  diffusion 
of  energy  throughout  the  mass  of  the  people. 

These  are  so  many  considerations  which  call  on  the  rising 
generation  of  those  destined  for  the  active  and  mechanical 
arts  to  improve  their  minds.  It  is  only  in  this  manner  that 
they  can  effectually  ascertain  the  true  bent  of  their  own 
faculties  ;  and,  having  ascertained  it,  employ  themselves  \vith 
greatest  success  in  the  way  for  which  Providence  has  fitted 
them.  It  is  only  in  this  manner  that  they  can  make  them- 
selves highly  respected  in  society,  and  secure  to  themselves 
the  largest  share  of  those  blessings  which  are  the  common 
objects  of  desire.  In  most  of  the  countries  of  the  older 
world,  the  greatest  part  of  the  prizes  of  life  are  literally 
distributed  by  the  lottery  of  birth.  Men  are  born  to  wealth, 
in  many  cases  inalienable  ;  to  power,  from  which  they 
cannot,  without  a  convulsion  of  the  body  politic,  be  removed  ; 
or  to  poverty  and  depression,  from  which,  generally  speaking, 
they  cannot  emerge.  Here,  it  rarely  happens,  that,  even  for 
a  single  generation,  an  independence  can  be  enjoyed,  without 
labor  and  diligence  bestowed  on  its  acquisition  and  preserva- 
tion ;  while,  as  a  general  rule,  the  place  to  which  each  indi- 
vidual shall  rise  in  society  is  precisely  graduated  on  the  scale 
of  capacity  and  exertion,  —  in  a  word,  of  merit.  Every 
thing,  therefore,  that  shows  the  magnitude  and  growth  of  the 
country,  its  abundance  and  variety  of  resources,  its  increasing 
demand  for  all  the  arts,  both  of  ornament  and  utility,  is 
another  reason,  calling  upon  the  emulous  young  men  of  the 
working  classes  to  enter  into  the  career  of  improvement, 
where  there  is  the  fullest  scope  for  generous  competition,  and 
every  talent  of  every  kind  is  sure  to  be  required  and  rewarded. 

There  is  another  reflection  which  ought  not  to  be  omitted. 
The  rapid  growth  and  swift  prosperity  of  the  country  have 
their  peculiar  attendant  evils,  in  addition  to  those  inseparable 
from  humanity.  To  resist  the  progress  of  these  evils,  to  pro- 
vide, seasonably  and  efficaciously,  the  remedy  for  those  dis- 
orders of  the  social  system  to  which  it  may  be  more  particu- 
larly exposed,  is  a  duty  to  be  performed  by  the  enlightened 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     267 

and  virtuous  portion  of  the  mass  of  the  community,  quite 
equal,  in  importance,  to  any  other  duty  which  they  are  calltd 
to  discharge.  In  Europe,  it  is  too  much  the  case  that  the 
virtuous  influences,  which  operate  on  the  working  classes, 
come  down  from  the  privileged  orders,  while  the  operatives, 
as  they  are  called,  are  abandoned  to  most  of  the  vices  of  the 
most  prolific  source  of  vice  —  ignorance.  It  is  of  the  utmost 
importance,  in  this  country,  that  the  active  walks  of  life 
should  be  filled  by  an  enlightened  class  of  men.  with  a  view 
to  the  security  and  order  of  society,  and  to  protect  it  from 
those  evils  which  have  been  thought,  in  Europe,  to  be  insep- 
arable from  the  great  increase  of  the  laboring  population. 
What  is  done  in  other 'countries  by  gens  d'armes  and  horse- 
guards,  must  here  be  done  by  public  sentiment,  or  not  at  all. 
An  enlightened  moral  public  sentiment  must  spread  its  wings 
over  our  dwellings,  and  plant  a  watchman  at  our  doors.  It 
is  perfectly  well  known  to  all  who  hear  me,  that,  as  a  class, 
the  mechanic  and  manufacturing  population  of  Europe  is  re- 
garded as  grossly  depraved  ;  while  the  agricultural  population, 
with  as  little  exception,  is  set  down  as  incurably  stupid. 
This  conviction  was  so  prevalent,  that  many  persons  of 
discernment  and  forecast  were  opposed  to  the  introduction  of 
manufactures  among  us,  partly  on  the  ground  that  factories 
are,  in  their  nature,  seminaries  of  vice  and  immorality.  Thus 
far,  this  fear  has  been  most  happily  relieved  by  experience  ; 
and  it  is  found  that  those  establishments  are  as  little  open  to 
reproach,  on  the  score  of  morals,  as  any  other  in  the  commu- 
nity. Our  mechanic  and  agricultural  population  will,  in  this 
part  of  the  country,  support  the  comparison,  for  general  intel- 
ligence and  morality,  with  any  in  the  world.  This  state  of 
things,  if  it  can  be  rendered  permanent,  is  a  great  social 
triumph,  and  will  be  to  America  a  juster  subject  of  self-grat- 
ulation,  than  any  thing  belonging  merely  to  the  political  or 
material  growth  of  the  community.  It  deserves  the  consid- 
eration of  every  patriot,  that  the  surest  way  of  perpetuating 
and  diffusing  this  most  enviable  state  of  things,  —  this  most 
desirable  of  all  the  advantages  which  we  can  have  over  the 
old  world, — is,  to  multiply  the  means  of  improving  the 


268    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

mind,  and  put  them  within  the  reach  of  all  classes.  An  in- 
telligent class  can  scarce  ever  be,  as  a  class,  vicious;  never, 
as  a  class,  indolent.  The  excited  mental  activity  operates  as 
a  counterpoise  to  the  stimulus  of  sense  and  appetite.  The 
new  world  of  ideas;  the  new  views  of  the  relations  of  things ; 
the  astonishing  secrets  of  the  physical  properties  and  mechan- 
ical powers  disclosed  to  the  well-informed  mind,  present 
attractions  which,  unless  the  character  is  deeply  sunk,  are 
sufficient  to  counterbalance  the  taste  for  frivolous  or  corrupt 
pleasures ;  and  thus,  in  the  end,  a  standard  of  character  is 
created  in  the  community,  which,  though  it  does  not  invaria- 
bly save  each  individual,  protects  the  virtue  of  the  mass. 

III.  I  am  thus  brought  to  the  last  consideration,  which  I 
shall  mention  as  an  encouragement  to  the  mechanic  classes  to 
improve  their  minds ;  and  that  is,  the  comparatively  higher 
rank  in  the  political  system  which  they  possess  in  this  coun- 
try. One  of  the  great  causes,  no  doubt,  of  the  enterprise 
and  vigor  which  have  already  distinguished  our  countrymen 
in  almost  every  pursuit,  is  the  absence  of  those  distinctions 
which  are  independent  of  personal  merit  and  popular  choice. 
It  is  the  strongest  motive  that  we  can  suggest  for  unremitted 
diligence  in  the  acquisition  of  useful  knowledge,  on  the  part 
of  the  laborious  classes,  that  they  have  a  far  more  responsible 
duty  to  discharge  to  society  than  ever  devolved  on  the  same 
class  in  any  other  community.  Every  book  of  travels,  not 
less  than  every  opportunity  of  personal  observation,  informs 
us  of  the  deplorable  ignorance  of  a  great  part  of  those  by 
whom  the  work  of  the  community  is  done  in  foreign  coun- 
tries. In  some  parts  of  England  this  class  is  more  enlight- 
ened than  it  is  on  the  continent  of  Europe ;  and  in  that 
country  great  efforts  are  making  at  the  present  time  —  and 
particularly  through  the  instrumentality  of  institutions  like 
that  under  the  auspices  of  which  we  are  now  assembled  — 
to  extend  the  means  of  education  to  those  who  have  hitherto 
been  deprived  of  them.  But  it  is  a  party  question  among 
them,  not  how  far  it  is  right  and  proper,  but  how  far  it  is 
prudent  and  safe,  to  enlighten  the  people ;  and  while  one 
party  in  England  is  urgent  for  the  diffusion  of  useful  knowl- 


AND  ENCOURAGEMENTS  TO  ITS  PURSUIT.  269 

edge,  to  prevent  the  people  from  breaking  out  into  violence 
and  revolution,  the  opposite  party  exclaims  against  a  further 
diffusion  of  knowledge,  as  tending  to  make  the  people  dis- 
contented with  their  condition.  I  remember  to  have  seen, 
not  long  since,  a  charre  to  the  grand  jury  by  an  English 
judge,  in  which  the  practice  of  boxing  is  commended,  and 
the  fear  is  expressed  that  popular  education  has  been  pushed 
too  far ! 

The  man  who  should  in  this  country  express  the  opinion 
that  the  education  of  the  people  foreboded  ill  to  the  state, 
would  merely  be  regarded  as  wanting  common  judgment  and 
sagacity.  We  are  not  only  accustomed  to  that  state  of  things 
to  which  the  higher  orders  in  Europe  look  forward  as  the 
fearful  result  of  bloody  revolutions,  but  we  regard  it  as  oiu 
great  blessing  and  privilege.  The  representative  system  and 
our  statute  of  distributions  are  considered  by  us  not  as  horrors 
consequent  upon  a  convulsion  of  society,  but  as  the  natural 
condition  of  the  body  politic. 

This  condition  of  the  country,  however,  is  not  to  be  looked 
upon  merely  as  a  topic  of  lofty  political  declamation.  Its 
best  effects  are,  and  must  be,  those  which  are  not  immediately 
of  a  political  character.  If  the  mass  of  the  people  behold  no 
privileged  class,  placed  invidiously  above  them ;  if  they 
choose  those  who  make  and  administer  the  laws ;  if  the  ex- 
tent of  public  expenditure  be  determined  by  those  who  bear 
its  burden,  —  this,  surely,  is  well ;  but  if  the  mass  of  the 
people  here  were  what  it  is  in  most  parts  of  Europe,  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  such  a  system  would  riot  be  too  good  for 
them.  Who  would  like  to  trust  his  life  and  fortune  to  a. 
Neapolitan  jury  ?  Under  the  reign  of  Napoleon,  an  attempt 
was  made  to  introduce  the  trial  by  jury,  not  only  into  France, 
but  into  some  of  the  dependent  kingdoms.  It  has  been  stated, 
that  when  the  peasants  of  some  of  these  countries  were  em- 
panelled in  the  jury-box,  they  not  only  considered  it  an 
excessively  onerous  and  irksome  duty,  but  showed  them- 
selves utterly  incapable  of  discharging  it  with  sufficient  dis- 
cretion and  intelligence. 

The  great  use,  then,  to  be  made  of  popular  rights  should 


270    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

be  popular  improvement.  Let  the  young  man  who  is  to  gain 
his  living  by  his  labor  and  skill,  remember  that  he  is  a 
citizen  of  a  free  state ;  that  on  him  and  his  contemporaries  it 
greatly  depends  whether  he  will  be  prosperous  himself  in  his 
social  condition,  and  whether  a  precious  inheritance  of  social 
blessings  shall  descend  unimpaired  to  those  who  come  after 
him  ;  that  there  is  no  important  difference  in  the  situation  of 
individuals  but  that  which  they  themselves  cause  or  permit 
to  exist ;  that  if  something  of  the  inequality  in  the  goods  of 
fortune  which  is  inseparable  from  human  things  exist  in  this 
country,  it  ought  to  be  viewed  only  as  another  excitement  to 
that  industry,  by  which,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  wealth  is 
acquired,  and  still  more  to  that  cultivation  of  the  mind, 
which,  next  to  the  moral  character,  makes  the  great  differ- 
ence between  man  and  man.  The  means  of  education  are 
already  ample  and  accessible ;  and  it  is  in  the  power  of  the 
majority  of  the  people  by  a  tax,  of  which  the  smallest  pro- 
portion falls  on  themselves,  to  increase  these  means  to  any 
desirable  extent. 

These  remarks  apply  with  equal  force  to  almost  every  indi- 
vidual. There  are  some  considerations  which  address  them- 
selves more  exclusively  to  the  ardent  mind,  emulous  of  the 
praise  of  distinguished  excellence.  Such  cannot  realize  too 
soon  that  we  live  in  an  age  of  improvement ;  an  age  in  which 
investigation  is  active  and  successful  in  every  quarter ;  and 
in  which  what  has  been  effected,  however  wonderful,  is  but 
the  brilliant  promise  of  what  may  further  be  done.  The 
important  discoveries  which  have  been  made  in  almost 
every  department  of  human  pursuit,  speculative  and  practi- 
cal, within  less  than  a  century,  are  almost  infinite. 

To  speak  only  of  those  which  minister  most  directly  to 
the  convenience  of  man,  —  what  changes  have  not  been 
already  wrought  in  the  condition  of  society  !  what  addition 
has  not  been  made  to  the  wealth  of  nations  and  the  means 
of  private  comfort  by  the  inventions,  discoveries,  and  improve- 
ments of  the  last  hundred  years !  High  in  importance  among 
these  are  the  increased  facilities  for  transportation.  By  the 
use  of  the  locomotive  steam  engine  upon  railroads,  passengers 


AND  ENCOURAGEMENTS  TO  ITS  PURSUIT.   271 

and  merchandise  may  now  be  conveyed  from  place  to  place, 
at  the  rate  of  twenty  and  even  thirty  miles  an  hour.  Al- 
though not  to  be  compared  with  this,  the  plan  of  M'Adam  is 
eminently  useful,  consisting,  as  it  does,  of  a  method  by  which 
a  surface  as  hard  as  a  rock  can  be  carried  along,  over  any 
foundation,  at  an  expense  not  much  greater,  and  under  some 
circumstances  not  at  all  greater,  than  that  of  turnpike  roads 
on  the  old  construction.  By  the  chemical  process  of  bleach- 
ing, what  was  formerly  done  by  exposure  to  the  sun  and  air 
for  weeks,  is  now  done  under  cover  in  a  few  days.  By  the 
machinery  for  separating  the  seed  from  the  staple  of  cotton, 
the  value  of  every  acre  of  land  devoted  to  the  culture  of  this 
most  important  product  has,  to  say  the  least,  been  doubled. 
By  the  ma.chinery  for  carding,  spinning,  and  weaving  cotton, 
the  price  of  a  yard  of  durable  cotton  cloth  has  been  reduced 
from  half  a  dollar  to  a  few  cents.  Lithography  and  stereo- 
type printing  are  destined  to  have  a  very  important  influence 
in  enlarging  the  sphere  of  the  operations  of  the  press.  By 
the  invention  of  gas  lights,  an  inflammable  air,  yielding  the 
strongest  and  purest  flame,  is  extracted  in  a  laboratory,  and 
conducted  under  ground  all  over  a  city,  and  brought  up  wher- 
ever it  is  required  —  in  the  street,  in  the  shop,  in  the  dwelling- 
house.  The  safety  lamp  enables  the  miner  to  walk  unharmed 
through  an  atmosphere  of  explosive  gas.  And  last  and 
chiefest,  the  application  of  steam,  as  a  general  moving  power, 
is  rapidly  extending  its  effect  from  one  branch  of  industry  to 
another,  and  bids  fair,  within  no  distant  period,  to  produce  the 
most  essential  changes  in  the  social  condition  of  the  world. 
All  these  beautiful,  surprising,  and  most  useful  discoveries  and 
improvements  have  been  made  within  less  than  a  century  ; 
most  of  them  within  less  than  half  that  time. 

What  must  be  the  effect  of  this  wonderful  multiplication 
of  ingenious  and  useful  discoveries  and  improvements  ? 
Undoubtedly  this,  that,  in  addition  to  all  their  immediate 
beneficial  consequences,  they  will  lead  to  further  discoveries 
and  still  greater  improvements.  Of  that  vast  system,  which 
we  call  Nature,  and  of  which  none  but  its  Author  can  com- 
prehend the  whole,  the  laws  and  the  properties  that  have  as 


272    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

yet  been  explored  unquestionably  form  but  a  small  portion, 
connected  with  a  grand  succession  of  parts,  yet  undiscovered, 
by  an  indissoluble  although  an  unseen  chain.  Each  new 
truth  that  is  found  out,  besides  its  own  significance  and 
value,  is  a  step  to  the  knowledge  of  further  truth,  leading  off 
the  inquisitive  mind  on  a  new  track,  and  upon  some  higher 
path,  in  the  pursuit  of  which  new  discoveries  are  made,  and 
the  old  are  brought  into  new  and  unexpected  connections. 

The  history  of  human  science  is  a  collection  of  facts, 
which,  while  it  proves  the  connection  with  each  other  of 
truths  and  arts,  at  first  view  remote  and  disconnected,  encour- 
ages us  to  scrutinize  every  department  of  knowledge,  how- 
ever trite  and  familiar  it  may  seem,  with  a  view  to  discovering 
its  relation  with  the  laws  and  properties  of  nature  compre- 
hended within  it,  but  not  yet  disclosed.  The  individual  who 
first  noticed  the  attractive  power  of  magnetic  substances  was 
gratified,  no  doubt,  with  observing  a  singular  and  inexplicable 
property  of  matter,  which  he  may  have  applied  to  some 
experiments  rather  curious  than  useful.  The  man,  who 
afterwards  observed  the  tendency  of  a  magnetized  body 
towards  the  poles  of  the  earth,  unfolded  a  far  more  curious 
and  important  law  of  nature,  but  one  which,  resting  there, 
was  productive  of  no  practical  consequences.  Then  came 
the  sagacious  individual,  who,  attaching  the  artificial  magnet 
to  a  traversing  card,  contrived  the  means  of  steering  a  vessel, 
in  the  darkest  night,  across  the  high  seas.  By  him  we  can- 
not suppose  that  the  important  consequences  of  his  discovery 
were  wholly  unperceived  ;  but  since,  in  point  of  history,  near 
two  centuries  passed  away  before  they  were  extensively 
developed,  we  can  hardly  suppose  that  the  inventor  of  the 
mariner's  compass  caught  more  than  a  glimpse  of  the  nature 
of  his  invention.  The  Chinese  are  supposed  to  have  been 
acquainted  with  it,  as  also  with  the  art  of  printing,  from  time 
immemorial,  without  having  derived  from  either  any  of  those 
results  which  have  changed  the  aspect  of  modern  Europe. 
Then  came  Columbus.  Guided  by  the  faithful  pilot,  which 
watches  when  the  eye  of  man  droops,  —  the  patient  little 
steersman,  which  darkness  does  not  blind,  nor  the  storm 


AXU    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.      273 

drive  from  its  post,  —  Columbus  discovered  a  new  world  — 
a  glorious  discovery,  as  he  no  doubt  felt  it  to  be,  both  in 
anticipation  and  achievement.  But  it  does  not  appear  that 
even  Columbus  formed  any  thing  but  a  wild  vision  of  the 
consequences  of  his  discovery  —  a  vision  fulfilled  in  his  own 
poverty  and  chains,  and  in  the  corruption  and  degeneracy  of 
the  Spanish  monarchy.  And  yet,  from  his  discovery  of 
America,  so  disastrous  to  himself  and  country,  have  sprung, 
directly  or  indirectly,  most  of  the  great  changes  of  the  polit- 
ical, commercial,  and  social  condition  of  man  in  modern 
times.  It  is  curious  also  to  reflect,  that  as  the  Chinese,  from 
time  immemorial,  (as  has  just  been  remarked,)  have  possessed 
the  mariner's  compass  and  the  art  of  printing,  to  little  pur- 
pose, so  they,  or  some  people  in  their  neighborhood  on  the 
north-eastern  coast  of  Asia,  either  with  the  aid  of  the  com- 
pass, or  merely  by  coasting  from  island  to  island,  appear  to 
have  made  the  discovery  of  America  on  the  western  side  of 
the  continent,  ages  before  it  was  discovered  by  Columbus  on 
the  eastern  side,  without,  however,  deriving  from  this  dis- 
covery any  beneficial  consequences  to  the  old  world  or  the 
new.  It  was  left  for  the  spirit  of  civilization,  awakened  in 
Western  Europe  towards  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  to 
develop  and  put  in  action  the  great  elements  of  power  and 
light  latent  in  this  discovery. 

Its  first  effect  was  the  establishment  of  the  colonial  system, 
which,  with  the  revolution  in  the  financial  state  of  Europe, 
occasioned  by  the  opening  of  the  American  mines,  gave, 
eventually,  a  new  aspect  to  both  hemispheres.  What  the 
sum  total  of  all  these  consequences  has  been,  may  be  partly 
judged  from  the  fact  that  the  colonization  of  the  United 
States  is  but  one  of  them.  The  further  extension  of  adven- 
tures of  discovery  was  facilitated  by  new  scientific  inventions 
and  improvements.  The  telescope  was  contrived  ;  and,  from 
the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  more  accurately 
observed,  tables  of  longitude  were  constructed,  which  gave 
new  confidence  to  the  navigator.  He  now  visits  new  shores, 
lying  in  different  climates,  whose  productions,  transplanted  to 
other  regions,  or  introduced  into  the  commerce  of  the  world; 
VOL.  i.  35 


274    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

give  new  springs  to  industry,  open  new  sources  of  wealth; 
and  lead  to  the  cultivation  of  new  arts.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
dwell  on  particulars  ;  but  who  can  estimate  the  full  effect 
on  social  affairs  of  such  products  as  sugar,  coffee,  tea,  rice, 
tobacco,  the  potato,  cotton,  indigo,  the  spices,  the  dye-woods, 
the  mineral  and  fossil  substances,  newly  made  to  enter  into 
general  use  and  consumption  ;  the  discovery,  transportation, 
and  preparation  of  which  are  so  many  unforeseen  effects  of 
former  discoveries  ?  Each  of  these,  directly  or  indirectly, 
furnished  new  materials  for  the  mind  to  act  upon  ;  new 
excitement  to  its  energies.  Navigation,  already  extended, 
receives  new  facilities  from  the  use  of  the  chronometer.  The 
growing  wealth  of  the  community  increases  the  demand  for 
all  the  fabrics  of  industry  ;  the  wonderful  machinery  for 
carding,  spinning,  and  weaving,  is  contrived  ;  water  and  vapor 
are  made  to  do  the  work  of  human  hands,  arid  almost  of 
human  intellect :  as  the  cost  of  the  fabric  decreases,  the 
demand  for  it  multiplies,  geometrically,  and  furnishes  an  ever- 
growing reward  for  the  exertions  of  the  ever-active  spirit  of 
improvement.  Thus  a  mechanical  invention  may  lead  to  a 
geographical  discovery  ;  a  physical  cause,  to  a  political  or  an 
intellectual  effect.  A  discovery  results  in  an  art  ;  an  art 
produces  a  comfort ;  a  comfort,  made  cheaply  accessible,  adds 
family  on  family  to  the  population  ;  and  a  family  is  a  new 
creation  of  thinking,  reasoning,  inventing,  and  discovering 
beings.  Thus,  instead  of  arriving  at  the  end,  we  are  at  the 
beginning  of  the  series,  and  ready  to  start,  with  recruited 
numbers,  on  the  great  and  beneficent  career  of  useful  knowl- 
edge. 

What,  then,  are  these  great  and  beneficial  -discoveries,  in 
their  origin  ?  What  is  the  process  which  has  led  to  them  ? 
They  are  the  work  of  rational  man,  operating  upon  the  ma- 
terials existing  in  nature,  aj  d  observing  the  laws  and  proper- 
ties of  the  physical  world.  The  Creator  of  the  universe  has 
furnished  us  the  material  :  it  is  all  around  us,  above  us,  and 
beneath  us  ;  in  the  ground  under  our  feet ;  the  air  we  breathe  ; 
the  waters  of  the  ocean,  and  of  the  fountains  of  the  earth ; 
in  the  various  subjects  of  the  kingdoms  of  nature.  We 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     275 

cannot  open  our  eyes,  nor  stretch  out  our  hands,  nor  take  a 
step,  but  we  see,  and  handle,  and  tread  upon,  the  things  from 
which  the  most  wonderful  and  useful  discoveries  and  inven- 
tions have  been  deduced.  What  is  gunpowder,  which  has 
changed  the  character  of  modern  warfare  ?  It  is  the  mechan- 
ical mixture  of  some  of  the  most  common  and  least  costly 
substances.  What  is  the  art  of  printing  ?  A  contrivance 
less  curious,  as  a  piece  of  mechanism,  than  a  musical  box. 
What  is  the  steam  engine  ?  An  apparatus  for  applying  the 
vapor  of  boiling  water.  What  is  vaccination  ?  A  trifling 
ail,  communicated  by  a  scratch  of  the  lancet,  and  capable  of 
protecting  human  life  against  one  of  the  most  dreadful  mala- 
dies to  which  it  is  exposed. 

And  are  the  properties  of  matter  all  discovered  ?  its  laws 
all  found  out  ?  the  uses  to  which  they  may  be  applied  all 
detected  ?  I  cannot  believe  it.  We  cannot  doubt  that  truths, 
now  unknown,  are  in  reserve,  to  reward  the  patience  and  the 
labors  of  future  lovers  of  truth,  which  will  go  as  far  beyond 
the  brilliant  discoveries  of  the  last  generation  as  these  do 
beyond  all  that  was  known  to  the  ancient  world.  The  pages 
are  infinite,  in  that  great  volume  which  was  written  by  the 
hand  divine  ;  and  they  are  to  be  gradually  turned,  perused, 
and  announced,  to  benefited  and  grateful  generations,  by 
genius  and  patience  ;  especially  by  patience  ;  by  untiring, 
enthusiastic,  self-devoting  patience.  The  progress  which  has 
been  made  in  art  and  science  is,  indeed,  vast.  We  are  ready 
to  think  a  pause  must  follow ;  that  the  goal  must  be  at  hand. 
But  there  is  no  goal  ;  and  there  can  be  no  pause  ;  for  art  and 
science  are,  in  themselves,  progressive  and  infinite.  They 
are  moving  powers,  animated  principles  ;  they  are  instinct 
with  life  ;  they  are  themselves  the  intellectual  life  of  man. 
Nothing  can  arrest  them  which  does  not  plunge  the  entire 
order  of  society  into  barbarism.  There  is  no  end  to  truth, 
no  bound  to  its  discovery  and  application  ;  and  a  man  might 
as  well  think  to  build  a  tower,  from  the  top  of  which  he 
could  grasp  Sirius  in  his  hand,  as  prescribe  a  limit  to  discovery 
and  invention. 

Never  do  we  more  evince  our  arrogant  ignorance  than  when 


276     IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

we  boast  our  knowledge.  True  Science  is  modest ;  for  hei 
keen,  sagacious  eye  discerns  that  there  are  deep,  undeveloped 
mysteries,  where  the  vain  sciolist  sees  all  plain.  We  call  this 
an  age  of  improvement,  as  it  is.  But  the  Italians,  in  the  age 
of  Leo  X.,  and  with  great  reason,  said  the  same  of  their  age  ; 
the  Romans,  in  the  time  of  Cicero,  the  same  of  tneirs  ;  the 
Greeks,  in  the  time  of  Pericles,  the  same  of  theirs  ;  and  the 
Assyrians  and  Egyptians,  in  the  flourishing  periods  of  their 
ancient  monarchies,  no  doubt,  the  same  of  theirs.  In  passing 
from  one  of  these  periods  to  another,  prodigious  strides  are 
often  made  ;  and  the  vanity  of  the  present  age  is  apt  to  flatter 
itself  that  it  has  climbed  to  the  very  summit  of  invention  and 
skill.  A  wiser  posterity  at  length  finds  out  that  the  discovery 
of  one  truth,  the  investigation  of  one  law  of  nature,  the 
contrivance  of  one  machine,  the  perfection  of  one  art,  instead 
of  narrowing,  has  widened  the  field  of  knowledge  still  to  be 
acquired,  and  given  to  those  who  came  after  an  ampler  space, 
more  numerous  data,  better  instruments,  a  higher  point  of 
observation,  and  the  encouragement  of  living  and  acting  in 
the  presence  of  a  more  intelligent  age.  It  is  not  a  century 
since  the  number  of  fixed  stars  was  estimated  at  about  three 
thousand.  Newton  had  counted  no  more.  When  Dr  Her- 
schel  had  completed  his  great  telescope,  and  turned  it  to  the 
heavens,  he  calculated  that  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
stars  passed  through  its  field  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ! 

It  may  not  irreverently  be  conjectured  to  be  the  harmoni- 
ous plan  of  the  universe,  that  its  two  grand  elements  of  mind 
and  matter  should  be  accurately  adjusted  to  each  other ;  that 
there  should  be  full  occupation,  in  the  physical  world,  in  its 
laws  and  properties,  and  in  the  moral  and  social  relations 
connected  with  it,  for  the  contemplative  and  active  powers 
of  every  created  intellect.  The  imperfection  of  human  in- 
stitutions has,  as  far  as  man  is  concerned,  disturbed  the  pure 
harmony  of  this  great  system.  On  the  one  hand,  much 
truth,  discoverable  even  at  the  present  stage  of  human  im- 
provement, as  we  have  every  reason  to  think,  remains  un- 
discovered. On  the  other  hand,  thousands  and  millions  of 
rational  minds,  for  want  of  education,  opportunity,  and  encour- 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     277 

agement,  have  remained  dormant  and  inactive,  though  sur- 
rounded on  every  side  by  those  qualities  of  things,  whose 
action  and  combination,  no  doubt,  still  conceal  the  sublimest 
and  most  beneficial  mysteries. 

But  a  portion  of  the  intellect  which  has  been  placed  on 
this  goodly  theatre,  is  wisely,  intently,  and  successfully  ac- 
tive; ripening,  even  on  earth,  into  no  mean  similitude  of 
higher  natures.  From  time  to  time,  a  chosen  hand,  some- 
times directed  by  what  is  called  chance,  but  more  commonly 
guided  by  reflection,  experiment,  and  research,  teaches,  as  it 
were,  a  spring,  until  then  unperceived;  and,  through  what 
seemed  a  blank  and  impenetrable  wall,  the  barrier  to  all  far- 
ther progress,  a  door  is  thrown  open,  into  some  before  unex- 
plored hall  in  the  sacred  temple  of  truth.  The  multitude 
rushes  in,  and  wonders  that  the  portals  could  have  remained 
concealed  so  long.  When  a  brilliant  discovery  or  invention 
is  proclaimed,  men  are  astonished  to  think  how  long  they 
have  lived  on  its  confines,  without  penetrating  its  nature. 

It  is  now  a  hundred  years  since  it  was  found  out  that  the 
vapor  of  boiling  water  is,  as  we  now  think  it,  the  most  power- 
ful mechanical  agent  within  the  control  of  man.  And  yet, 
even  after  the  contrivance  of  the  steam  engine,  on  a  most 
improved  construction,  and  although  the  thoughts  of  numer- 
ous ingenious  mechanicians  were  turned  to  the  subject,  and 
various  experiments  made,  it  was  left  for  our  fellow-citizen, 
Fulton,  in  a  successful  application  of  this  agent,  as  brilliant 
as  its  first  discovery,  to  produce  another  engine,  —  the  steam- 
boat, —  of  incalculable  utility  and  power.  The  entire  con- 
sequences of  this  discovery  cannot  yet  be  predicted:  but 
there  is  one  prediction  relative  to  it,  and  that  among  the  first 
ever  made,  which  has  been  most  calamitously  fulfilled. 
When  the  interests  of  Mr  Fulton,  under  the  laws  of  New 
York,  were  maintained  by  Mr  Emmet,  at  the  bar  of  the  legis- 
lature of  that  state,  at  the  close  of  his  argument,  he  turned 
to  his  client,  in  an  affecting  apostrophe  ;  and,  after  commend- 
ing the  disinterestedness  with  which  he  devoted  his  time, 
talents,  and  knowledge  to  enterprises  and  works  of  public 
utility,  to  the  injury  of  his  private  fortunes,  he  added,  "Let 


278     IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

me  remind  you,  however,  that  you  have  other  and  closer  ties. 
I  know  the  pain  I  am  about  to  give,  and  I  see  the  tears  I 
make  you  shed.  But  by  that  love,  I  speak, — by  that  love 
which,  like  the  light  of  heaven,  is  refracted  in  rays  of  dif- 
ferent strength  upon  your  wife  and  children,  which,  when 
collected  and  combined,  forms  the  sunshine  of  your  soul ;  — 
by  that  love  I  do  adjure  you,  provide  in  time  for  those  dear- 
est objects  of  your  care.  Think  not  I  would  instil  into  your 
mind  a  mean  or  sordid  feeling  ;  but  now  that  wealth  is  pass- 
ing through  your  hands,  let  me  entreat  you  to  hoard  it,  while 
you  have  it."  And  then,  after  sketching  the  dangers  which 
threatened  his  interests,  as  guarantied  by  the  laws  of  the 
state,  Mr  Emmet  prophetically  added,  "  Yes,  my  friend,  my 
heart  bleeds  while  I  utter  it ;  but  I  have  fearful  forebodings 
that  you  may  hereafter  find  in  public  faith  a  broken  staff 
for  your  support,  and  receive  from  public  gratitude  a  broken 
heart  for  your  reward."  From  the  time  this  prediction  was 
uttered,  the  stupendous  consequences  of  the  invention  of 
Fulton  have  been  every  .day  more  and  more  amply  devel- 
oped. It  has  brought  into  convenient*  neighborhood  with 
each  other  some  of  the  remotest  settlements  on  the  waters 
of  the  United  States.  It  has  made  the  Mississippi  navigable 
up  stream  as  well  as  down,  (which  it  hardly  was  before,)  in- 
credibly accelerating,  in  time  of  peace,  the  settlement  of  its 
mighty  valley,  and  making  it  henceforth  safe  from  attack  in 
time  of  war.  It  has  added,  beyond  all  estimate,  to  the  value 
of  the  time,  and  to  the  amount  of  the  capital,  of  a  large  por- 
tion of  the  population  of  the  country ;  and,  without  impair- 
ing the  importance  of  these  benefits  to  America,  has  as  sig- 
nally imparted  them,  or  similar  benefits,  to  Europe,  and  the 
rest  of  the  civilized  world.  While  these  grand  developments 
of  Fulton's  invention  have  been  taking  place,  the  life,  the 
estate,  the  family  of  the  great  inventor  have,  one  after  an- 
other, been  sacrificed  and  crushed.  Within  a  few  months 
after  the  eloquent  appeal  just  recited  was  made,  Fulton  actu- 
ally died  of  disease  contracted  by  exposure  in  the  gratuitous 
service  of  the  public.  In  a  few  years,  a  decision  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  of  the  United  States  scattered  the  remains  of 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.     279 

his  property  to  the  winds ;  and  twice  or  thrice,  since  that 
period,  has  an  appeal  been  made  to  Congress,  on  behalf  of 
his  orphan  children,  for  such  a  provision  as  would  spare  them 
from  the  alternative  of  charity  or  starvation,  —  and  it  has  been 
made  in  vain.* 

But  it  is  time  to  return  to  the  facts  with  which  I  was  illus- 
trating the  wonderful  advances  made  from  time  to  time  in 
the  cultivation  or  application  of  the  most  familiar  arts.  As 
far  back  as  human  history  runs,  the  use  of  the  distaff  and 
loom  is  known ;  but  it  is  not  yet  one  hundred  years  since 
Sir  Richard  Arkwright  was  born  —  the  poor  journeyman 
barber,  the  youngest  of  thirteen  children,  who  began  and 
perfected  the  most  important  improvements  in  the  machinery 
for  manufacturing  cotton ;  which  (as  has  been  stated  on 
the  most  respectable  English  authority)  "bore  the  English 
nation  triumphantly  through  the  wars  of  the  French  revolu- 
tion," and  are  unquestionably  of  greater  value  to  her  than  all 
her  colonies,  from  Hindostan  to  Labrador. 

The  ocean  which  lies  between  America  and  Europe  may 
be  crossed  in  a  fortnight;  but  after  the  fleets  of  Tyre,  of 
Carthage,  of  Rome,  and  of  the  maritime  powers  of  the  middle 
ages,  had  been  for  thousands  of  years  accustomed  to  navigate 
the  sea,  it  was  reserved  for  a  poor  Genoese  pilot,  begging  his 
way  from  court  to  court,  to  discover  a  new  world,  and  by  the 
simple  process  of  sailing  on  one  course  as  long  as  he  had 
water  to  float  his  ship. 

Our  geographical  knowledge  shows  us  that  we  do  not,  like 
so  many  generations  of  our  predecessors,  live  within  the 
reach  of  other  undiscovered  continents ;  but  we  do  unques- 
tionably live,  act,  and  speculate  within  the  reach  of  properties 
and  powers  of  things,  whose  discovery  and  application  (when 
they  take  place)  will  effect  changes  in  society  as  great  as 
those  produced  by  the  magnet,  the  discovery  of  America,  the 
art  of  printing,  or  the  steamboat.  We  do  doubtless  live 

*  At  the  time  this  passage  was  pronounced,  before  the  Columbian  Insti- 
tute, in  the  hall  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  an  application  in  favor 
of  the  family  of  Fulton  was  before  Congress,  on  the  report  of  a  committee, 
of  which  the  author  was  a  member 


280    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE, 

within  the  reach  of  undiscovered  worlds  of  science,  art,  and 
improvement.  No  royal  permission  is  requisite  to  launch 
forth  on  the  broad  sea  of  discovery  that  surrounds  us.  —  most 
full  of  novelty  where  most  explored;  and  it  may  yet  be 
reserved  for  the  modest  and  secluded  lover  of  truth  and  votary 
of  science,  in  the  solitude  of  his  humble  researches,  or  the  in- 
telligent mechanic,  in  the  discharge  of  his  daily  labors,  to  lay 
open  such  laws  of  matter  as  will  affect  the  condition  of  the 
civilized  world. 

This,  then,  is  the  encouragement  we  have  to  engage  in 
any  well-conceived  enterprise  for  the  diffusion  of  useful 
knowledge  and  the  extension  of  general  improvement. 
Wherever  there  is  a  human  mind  possessed  of  the  common 
faculties,  and  placed  in  a  body  organized  with  the  common 
senses,  there  is  an  active,  intelligent  being,  competent,  with 
proper  cultivation,  to  the  discovery  of  the  highest  truths  in 
the  natural,  the  social,  and  the  political  world.  It  is  suscep- 
tible of  demonstration,  if  demonstration  were  necessary,  that 
the  number  of  useful  and  distinguished  men  which  are  to 
benefit  and  adorn  society  around  us  will  be  exactly  propor- 
tioned, upon  the  whole,  to  the  means  and  encouragements  to 
improvement  existing  in  the  community ;  and  every  thing 
which  multiplies  these  means  and  encouragements  tends,  in 
the  same  proportion,  to  the  multiplication  of  inventions  and 
discoveries  useful  and  honorable  to  man.  The  mind,  al- 
though it  does  not  stand  in  need  of  high  culture  for  the 
attainment  of  great  excellence,  does  yet  stand  in  need  of 
some  culture,  and  cannot  thrive  and  act  without  it.  When  it 
is  once  awakened  and  inspired  with  a  consciousness  of  its 
own  powers,  and  nourished  into  vigor  by  the  intercourse  of 
kindred  minds,  either  through  books  or  living  converse,  it 
does  not  disdain,  but  it  needs  not,  further  extraneous  aid. 
It  ceases  to  be  a  pupil;  it  sets  up  for  itself;  it  becomes  a 
master  of  truth,  and  goes  fearlessly  onward,  sounding  its 
way,  through  the  darkest  regions  of  investigation.  But  it  is 
almost  indispensable  that,  in  some  way  or  other,  the  elements 
of  truth  should  be  imparted  from  kindred  minds ;  and  if 
these  are  wholly  withheld,  the  intellect  which,  if  properly 


AND    ENCOURAGEMENTS    TO    ITS    PURSUIT.      281 

cultivated,  might  have  soared  with  Newton  to  the  boundaries 
of  the  comet's  orbit,  is  chained  down  to  the  wants  and  imper- 
fections of  mere  physical  life,  unconscious  of  its  own  capaci- 
ties, and  unable  to  fulfil  its  higher  destiny. 

Contemplate,  at  this  season  of  the  year,*  one  of  the  mag- 
nificent oak-trees  of  the  forest,  covered  with  thousands  and 
thousands  of  acorns.  There  is  not  one  of  those  acorns  that 
does  not  carry  within  itself  the  germ  of  a  perfect  oak,  as  lofty 
and  as  wide-spreading  as  the  parent  stock ;  the  rudiments  of 
a  tree,  that  would  strike  its  roots  in  the  soil,  and  lift  its 
branches  towards  the  heavens,  and  brave  the  storms  of  three 
or  four  hundred  winters.  It  needs  for  this  but  a  handful  of 
soil  to  receive  the  acorn  as  it  falls,  a  little  moisture  to  nour- 
ish it,  and  protection  from  violence  till  the  root  is  struck.  It 
needs  but  these ;  and  these  it  does  need,  and  these  it  must 
have ;  and  for  want  of  them,  trifling  as  they  seem,  there  is 
not  one  out  of  a  thousand  of  those  innumerable  acorns  which 
is  destined  to  become  a  tree. 

Look  abroad  through  the  cities,  the  towns,  the  villages  of 
our  beloved  country,  and  think  of  what  materials  their  popu- 
lation, in  many  parts  already  dense,  and  every  where  rapidly 
growing,  is  for  the  most  part  made  up.  It  is  not  made  up  of 
lifeless  enginery,  of  animated  machines,  of  brute  beasts, 
trained  to  subdue  the  earth ;  but  of  rational,-  intellectual 
beings.  There  is  not  a  mind,  of  the  hundreds  of  thousands 
in  our  community,  that  is  not  capable  of  making  large  prog- 
ress in  useful  knowledge ;  and  no  one  can  presume  to  tell  or 
limit  the  number  of  those  who  are  gifted  with  all  the  talent 
required  for  the  noblest  discoveries.  They  have  naturally  all 
the  senses  and  all  the  faculties  —  I  do  not  say  in  as  high  a 
degree,  but  who  shall  say  in  no  degree  ?  — possessed  by  New- 
ton, or  Franklin,  or  Fulton.  It  is  but  a  little  which  is  wanted 
to  awaken  every  one  of  these  rrh'nds  to  the  conscious  posses- 
sion and  the  active  exercise  of  its  wonderful  powers.  But 
this  little,  generally  speaking,  is  indispensable.  How  much 
more  wonderful  an  instrument  is  an  eye  than  a  telescoj>e ! 

*  The  month  of  November 
VOL.  i.  36 


282    IMPORTANCE    OF    SCIENTIFIC    KNOWLEDGE 

Providence  has  furnished  this  eye  ;  but  axt  must  contribute 
the  telescope,  or  the  wonders  of  the  heavens  remain  unno- 
ticed. It  is  for  want  of  the  little  that  human  means  must 
add  to  the  wonderful  capacity  for  improvement  born  in  man, 
that  by  far  the  greatest  part  of  the  intellect  innate  in  om 
race  perishes  undeveloped  and  unknown.  When  an  acorn 
falls  upon  an  unfavorable  spot,  and  decays  there,  we  know 
the  extent  of  the  loss  —  it  is  that  of  a  tree,  like  the  one  from 
which  it  fell ;  but  when  the  mind  of  a  rational  being,  for 
want  of  culture,  is  lost  to  the  great  ends  for  which  it  was 
created,  it  is  a  loss  which  no  one  can  measure,  either  for  time 
or  for  eternity. 


LECTURE    ON    THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY.* 


MAN  is  by  nature  an  active  being.  He  is  made  to  labor. 
His  whole  organization,  mental  and  physical,  is  that  of  a 
hard-working  being.  Of  his  mental  powers  we  have  no  con- 
ception, but  as  certain  capacities  of  intellectual  action.  His 
corporeal  faculties  are  contrived  for  the  same  end,  with  as- 
tonishing variety  of  adaptation.  Who  can  look  only  at  the 
muscles  of  the  hand,  and  doubt  that  man  was  made  to  work 
with  the  body  ?  Who  can  be  conscious  of  judgment,  mem- 
ory, and  reflection,  and  doubt  that  man  was  made  to  act  with 
the  mind  ?  He  requires  rest,  but  it  is  in  order  to  invigorate 
him  for  new  efforts ;  to  recruit  his  exhausted  powers.  Nature 
is  so  ordered,  as  both  to  require  and  encourage  man  to  work. 
He  is  created  with  wants,  which  cannot  be  satisfied  without 
labor ;  at  the  same  time  that  ample  provision  is  made  by 
Providence  to  satisfy  them  with  labor.  The  plant  springs 
up  and  grows,  on  the  spot  where  the  seed  was  cast  by  acci- 
dent. It  is  fed  by  the  moisture  which  saturates  the  earth,  or 
is  held  suspended  in  the  air;  and  it  brings  with  it  a  sufficient 
covering  to  protect  its  delicate  internal  structure.  It  toils  not, 
neither  doth  it  spin,  for  clothing  or  food.  But  man  is  so  cre- 
ated, that,  let  his  wants  be  as  simple  as  they  will,  he  must 
labor  to  supply  them.  If,  as  is  supposed  to  have  been  the 
case  in  primitive  ages,  he  lives  upon  acorns  and  water,  he 
must  draw  the  water  from  the  spring ;  and  in  many  places, 
he  must  dig  a  well  in  the  soil ;  and  he  must  gather  the  acorns 
from  beneath  the  oak,  and  lay  up  a  store  of  them  for  winter. 


*  Delivered  before  the  Charlostown  Lyceum,  October,  1830. 

(283) 


284  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

He  must,  in  most  climates,  contrive  himself  some  kind  of 
clothing,  of  barks  or  skins  ;  must  construct  some  rude  shelter  ; 
prepare  some  kind  of  bed,  and  keep  up  a  fire.  In  short,  it  is 
well  known  that  those  tribes  of  our  race  which  are  the  least 
advanced  in  civilization,  and  whose  wants  are  the  fewest, 
have  to  labor  the  hardest  for  their  support  ;  but  at  the  same 
time,  it  is  equally  true  that  in  the  most  civilized  countries,  by 
far  the  greatest  amount  and  variety  of  work  are  done  ;  so 
that  the  improvement  which  takes  place  in  the  condition  of 
man  consists,  not  in  diminishing  the  amount  of  labor  per- 
formed, but  in  enabling  men  to  work  more,  or  more  efficiently, 
in  the  same  time.  A  horde  of  savages  will  pass  a  week  in  the 
most  laborious  kinds  of  hunting ;  following  the  chase  day 
after  day ;  their  women,  if  in  company  with  them,  carrying 
their  tents  and  their  infant  children  on  their  backs  ;  and  all 
be  worn  down  by  fatigue  and  famine  ;  and  in  the  end,  they 
will  perhaps  kill  a  buffalo.  The  same  number  of  civilized 
men  and  women  would  probably,  on  an  average,  have  kept 
more  steadily  at  work  in  their  various  trades  and  occupations, 
but  with  much  less  exhaustion,  and  the  products  of  their  in- 
dustry would  have  been  vastly  greater ;  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  much  more  work  would  have  been  done. 

It  is  true,  as  man  rises  in  improvement,  he  would  be  ena- 
bled, by  his  arts  and  machinery,  to  satisfy  the  primary  wants  of 
life  with  less  labor ;  and  this  may  be  thought  to  show,  at  first 
glance,  that  man  was  not  intended  to  be  a  working  being  ; 
because,  in  proportion  as  he  advances  in  improvement,  less 
work  would  be  required  to  get  a  mere  livelihood.  But  here 
we  see  a  curious  provision  of  nature.  In  proportion  as  our 
bare  natural  wants  are  satisfied,  artificial  wants,  or  civilized 
wants,  show  themselves.  And,  in  the  very  highest  state  of 
improvement,  it  requires  as  constant  an  exertion  to  satisfy  the 
new  wants,  which  grow  out  of  the  habits  and  tastes  of  civil- 
ized life,  as  it  requires,  in  savage  life,  to  satisfy  hunger  and 
thirst,  and  keep  from  freezing.  In  other  words,  the  innate 
desire  of  improving  our  condition  keeps  us  all  in  a  state  of 
want.  We  cannot  be  so  well  off  that  we  do  not  feel  obliged 
to  work,  either  to  insure  the  continuance  of  what  we  now 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY  285 

have,  or  to  increase  it.  The  man  whose  honest  industry  just 
gives  him  a  competence,  exerts  himself  that  he  may  have 
something  against  a  rainy  day ;  and  how  often  do  we  hear 
an  affectionate  father  say  he  is  determined  to  spare  no  pains, 
to  work  in  season  and  out  of  season,  in  order  that  his  chil- 
dren may  enjoy  advantages  denied  to  himself! 

In  this  way  it  is  pretty  plain  that  man,  whether  viewed  in 
his  primitive  and  savage  state,  or  in  a  highly  improved  condi- 
tion, is  a  working  being.  It  is  his  destiny,  the  law  of  his 
nature,  to  labor.  He  is  made  for  it,  and  he  cannot  live  with- 
out it;  and  the  apostle  Paul  summed  up  the  matter,  with 
equal  correctness  and  point,  when  he  said,  that  "  if  any 
would  not  work,  neither  should  he  eat." 

It  is  a  good  test  of  principles,  like  these,  to  bring  them  to 
the  standard  of  general  approbation  or  disapprobation.  There 
are,  in  all  countries,  too  many  persons  who,  from  mistaken 
ideas  of  the  nature  of  happiness,  or  other  less  reputable 
causes,  pass  their  time  in  idleness  or  in  indolent  pleasures. 
But  I  believe  no  state  of  society  ever  existed  in  which  the 
energy  and  capacity  of  labor  were  not  commended  and  ad- 
mired, or  in  which  a  taste  for  indolent  pleasure  was  com- 
mended or  admired,  by  the  intelligent  part  of  the  community. 
When  we  read  the  lives  of  distinguished  men,  in  any  depart- 
ment, we  find  them  almost  always  celebrated  for  the  amount 
of  labor  they  could  perform.  Demosthenes,  Julius  Csesar, 
Henry  the  Fourth  of  France,  Lord  Bacon,  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
Franklin,  Washington,  Napoleon, — different  as  they  were  in 
their  intellectual  and  moral  qualities,  —  were  all  renowned  as 
hard  workers.  We  read  how  many  days  they  could  support 
the  fatigues  of  a  march ;  how  early  they  rose,  how  late  they 
watched ;  how  many  hours  they  spent  in  the  field,  in  the 
cabinet,  in  the  court,  in  the  study ;  how  many  secretaries 
they  kept  employed ;  in  short,  how  hard  they  worked.  But 
who  ever  heard  of  its  being  said  of  a  man,  in  commendation, 
that  he  could  sleep  fifteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four ;  that 
he  could  eat  six  meals  a  day ;  and  that  he  was  never  weary 
of  his  easy-chair  ? 

It  would  be  curious  to  estimate,  by  any  safe  standard,  the 


286  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

amount  in  value  of  the  work  of  all  kinds  performed  in  a 
community.  This,  of  course,  cannot  be  done  with  any  great 
accuracy.  The  pursuits  of  men  are  so  various,  and  the  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  labor  are  so  different  in  the  value  of  their 
products,  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  bring  the  aggregate  to 
any  scale  of  calculation.  But  we  may  form  a  kind  of  general 
judgment  of  the  value  of  the  labor  of  a  community,  if  we 
look  about  us.  All  the  improvements  which  we  behold  on 
the  face  of  the  earth ;  all  the  buildings  of  every  kind  in 
town  and  country ;  all  the  vehicles  employed  on  the  land 
and  water;  the  roads,  the  canals,  the  wharfs,  the  bridges; 
all  the  property  of  all  kinds  which  is  accumulated  through- 
out the  world ;  and  all  that  is  consumed,  from  day  to  day 
and  from  hour  to  hour,  to  support  those  who  live  upon  it,  — 
all  this  is  the  product  of  labor;  and  a  proportionate  share 
is  the  product  of  the  labor  of  each  generation.  It  is  plain 
that  this  comprehensive  view  is  one  that  would  admit  of 
being  carried  out  into  an  infinity  of  details,  which  would  fur- 
nish the  materials  rather  for  a  volume  than  a  lecture.  But 
as  it  is  the  taste  of  the  present  day  to  bring  every  thing  down 
to  the  standard  of  figures,  I  will  suggest  a  calculation  which 
will  enable  us  to  judge  of  the  value  of  the  labor  performed 
in  the  community  in  which  we  live.  Take  the  population 
of  Massachusetts,  for  the  sake  of  round  numbers,  at  six  hundred 
thousand  souls.*  I  presume  it  will  not  be  thought  extravagant 
to  assume  that  one  in  six  performs,  every  day,  a  good  day's 
work,  or  its  equivalent.  If  we  allow  nothing  for  the  labor 
of  five  out  of  six,  (and  /this  certainly  will  cover  the  cases  of 
those  too  young  and  too  old  to  do  any  work,  or  who  can  do 
only  a  part  of  a  day's  work,)  and  if  we  also  allow  nothing  ex- 
tra for  those  whose  time  is  worth  more  than  that  of  the  day 
laborer,  we  may  safely  assume  that  the  sixth  person  performs, 
daily,  a  vigorous,  efficient  day's  work  of  body  or  mind,  by 
hand  or  with  tools,  or  partly  with  each,  and  that  this  day's 
work  is  worth  one  dollar.  This  will  give  us  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  a  day  as  the  value  of  the  work  done  in  the 

*  In  1830 ;  at  present,  above  eight  hundred  thousand. 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY.  287 

slate  of  Massachusetts.  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  is  much 
more ;  for  this  would  be  very  little  more  than  it  costs  the 
population  to  support  itself,  and  would  allow  scarce  any  thing 
for  accumulation,  which  is  constantly  taking  place  to  a  great 
extent.  It  will,  however,  show  sufficiently  the  great  amount 
of  the  labor  done  in  this  state,  to  take  it  as  coming  up,  at 
least,  to  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  per  day. 

It  appears,  then,  first,  that  man  is,  by  his  nature,  a  working 
being  ;  and,  secondly,  that  the  daily  value  of  his  work,  esti- 
mated merely  in  money,  is  immensely  great,  in  any  civilized 
community. 

I  have  made  these  preliminary  remarks,  as  an  introduction 
to  some  observations  which  I  propose  to  submit,  in  the  re- 
mainder of  this  lecture,  on  the  subject  of  "  a  workingmen's 
party."  Towards  the  organization  of  such  a  party,  steps 
have  been  taken,  in  various  parts  of  the  country.  It  is 
probable  that  a  great  diversity  of  views  exists  among  those 
who  have  occupied  themselves  upon  the  subject,  in  different 
places.  This  circumstance,  and  the  novelty  of  the  subject  in 
some  of  its  aspects,  and  its  importance  in  all,  have  led  me  to 
think  that  we  might  pass  an  hour  profitably  in  considering  it. 

I  will  observe,  in  the  first  place,  then,  that  if,  as  I  have 
endeavored  to  show,  man  is,  by  nature,  a  working  being,  it 
would  follow  that  a  workingmen's  party  is  founded  in  the 
very  principles  of  our  nature.  Most  parties  may  be  considered 
as  artificial,  in  their  very  essence  ;  many  are  local,  temporary, 
and  personal.  What  will  all  our  political  parties  be,  a  hun- 
dred years  hence  ?  What  are  they  now,  in  nine  tenths  of  the 
habitable  globe  ?  Mere  nonentities.  But  the  workingmen's 
party,  however  organized,  is  one  that  must  subsist  in  every 
civilized  country,  to  the  end  of  time.  In  other  words,  its 
fi.'st  principles  are  laid  in  our  nature. 

The  next  question  that  presents  itself  is,  What  is  the  gen- 
eral object  of  a  workingmen's  party  ?  I  do  not  now  mean, 
what  are  the  immediate  steps  which  such  a  party  proposes  to 
take  ;  but,  what  are  the  main  object  and  end  which  it  would 
secure.  To  this,  I  suppose,  I  may  safely  answer,  that  it  is 
not  to  carry  this  or  that  political  election  ;  not  to  elevate  this 


288  THE    WORKWOMEN'S    PAR1T. 

or  that  candidate  for  office ;  but  to  promote  the  prosperity  and 
welfare  of  workingmen  ;  that  is,  to  obtain  for  every  man 
disposed  to  work  the  greatest  freedom  in  the  choice  of  his 
pursuit,  the  greatest  encouragement  and  aid  in  pursuing  it, 
the  greatest  security  in  enjoying  its  fruits  ;  in  other  words,  to 
make  work,  in  the  greatest  possible  degree,  produce  happiness. 

The  next  inquiry  seems  to  be,  Who  belong  to  the  working- 
men's  party  ?  The  general  answer  here  is  obvious  :  All  who 
do  the  work,  or  are  actually  willing  and  desirous  to  do  it,  and 
prevented  only  by  absolute  inability,  such  as  sickness  or 
natural  infirmity.  Let  us  try  the  correctness  of  this  view, 
by  seeing  whom  it  would  exclude  and  whom  it  would  include. 

This  rule,  in  the  first  place,  would  exclude  all  bad  men  ; 
that  is,  those  who  may  work,  indeed,  but  who  work  for 
immoral  and  unlawful  ends.  This  is  a  very  important  dis- 
tinction ;  and,  if  practically  applied  and  vigorously  enforced, 
it  would  make  the  workingmen's  party  the  purest  that  ever 
existed  since  the  time  of  the  primitive  Christians.  It  is 
greatly  to  be  feared,  that  scarce  any  of  the  parties  that  divide 
the  community  are  sufficiently  jealous  on  this  point ;  and  for 
the  natural  reason,  that  it  does  not  lie  in  the  very  nature  of 
those  parties.  Thus,  at  the  polls,  the  vote  of  one  man  is  as 
good  as  the  vote  of  another.  The  vote  of  the  drunkard 
counts  one  ;  the  vote  of  the  temperate  man  counts  but  one. 
For  this  reason,  the  mere  party  politician,  if  he  can  secure 
the  vote,  is  apt  not  to  be  very  inquisitive  about  the  temper- 
ance of  the  voter.  He  may  even  prefer  the  intemperate  to 
the  temperate ;  for,  to  persuade  the  temperate  man  to  vote 
with  him,  he  must  give  him  a  good  reason  ;  the  other  will  do 
it  for  a  good  drink. 

But  the  true  principles  of  the  workingmen's  party  require 
not  merely  that  a  man  should  work,  but  that  he  should  work 
in  an  honest  way,  and  for  a  lawful  object.  The  man  who 
makes  forged  money  probably  works  harder  than  the  honest 
engraver  who  prepares  the  notes  for  those  authorized  by  law 
to  issue  them.  But  the  former  would  be  repelled  with  scorn, 
if  he  presented  himself  as  a  member  of  the  workingmen's 
party.  The  man  who  passes  his  life,  and  gains  a  wretched, 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY.  289 

precarious  subsistence,  by  midnight  trespasses  on  his  neigh- 
bor's grounds  ;  by  stealing  horses  from  the  stall,  and  wood 
from  the  pile  ;  by  wrenching  bars  and  bolts  at  night,  or  pick- 
ing pockets  in  a  crowd,  probably  works  harder  (taking  uncer- 
tainty and  anxiety  into  the  calculation,  and  adding,  as  the 
usual  consequence,  a  term  of  years  in  the  compulsory  service 
of  the  state)  than  the  average  of  men  pursuing  honest  indus- 
try, even  of  the  most  laborious  kind  ;  but  this  hard  work 
would  not  entitle  him  to  be  regarded  as  a  member  of  the 
workingmen's  party. 

If  it  be  inquired  who  is  to  be  the  judge  what  kind  of  work 
is  not  only  no  title,  but  an  absolute  disqualification,  for  ad- 
mission to  the  workingmen's  party,  on  the  score  of  dishonesty, 
we  answer,  that,  for  all  practical  purposes,  this  must  be  left  to 
the  law  of  the  land.  It  is  true,  that,  under  cover  and  within 
the  pale  of  the  law,  a  man  may  do  things  morally  dishonest, 
and  such  as  ought  to  shut  him  out  of  the  party.  But  it  is 
dangerous  to  institute  an  inquisition  into  the  motives  of  indi- 
viduals ;  arid  so  long  as  a  man  does  nothing  which  the  law 
forbids,  in  a  country  where  the  people  make  the  laws,  he 
ought,  if  not  otherwise  disqualified,  to  be  admitted  as  a 
member  of  the  party. 

The  next  question  regards  idlers.  If  we  exclude  from  the 
workingmen's  party  all  dishonest  and  immoral  workers,  what 
are  we  to  say  to  the  case  of  the  idlers  ?  In  general  terms,  the 
answer  to  this  question  is  plain  :  They,  too,  must  be  excluded. 
With  what  pretence  of  reason  can  an  idler  ask  to  be  admitted 
into  the  association  of  workingmen,  unless  he  is  willing  to 
qualify  himself,  by  going  to  work  ?  and  then  he  ceases  to  be 
an  idler.  In  fact,  the  man  who  idles  away  his  time  acts 
against  the  law  of  his  nature,  as  a  working  being.  It  must 
be  observed,  however,  that  there  are  few  cases  where  a  man 
is  merely  an  idler.  In  almost  every  case,  he  must  be  some- 
thing worse,  such  as  a  spendthrift,  a  gamester,  or  an  intem- 
perate person  ;  a  bad  son,  a  bad  husband,  and  a  bad  father. 
If  there  are  any  persons  dependent  on  him  for  support,  if  he 
idles  away  the  time  which  he  ought  to  devote  to  maintaining 
his  wife  and  his  children,  or  his  aged  parents,  he  then  becomes 
VOL.  i.  37 


290  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

a  robber  ;  a  man  that  steals  the  bread  out  of  the  mouths  of 
his  own  family,  and  rends  the  clothes  off  their  backs.  He  is 
as  much  more  criminal  than  the  common  highway  robber  who 
takes  the  stranger's  purse  on  the  turnpike  road,  as  the  ties  of 
duty  to  our  parents  and  children  are  beyond  those  of  common 
justice  between  man  and  man.  But  I  suppose  it  would  not 
require  much  argument  to  show  that  the  person  who  leaves 
to  want  those  whom  he  ought  to  support,  even  if  he  does  not 
pass  his  idle  hours  in  any  criminal  pursuit,  has  no  right  to 
call  himself  a  workingman. 

There  is  a  third  class  of  men,  whose  case  deserves  consid- 
eration, and  who  are  commonly  called  busybodies.  They 
are  as  different  from  real  workingmen  as  light  is  from  dark- 
ness. They  cannot  be  called  idlers,  for  they  are  never  at 
rest ;  nor  yet  workers,  for  they  pursue  no  honest,  creditable 
employment.  So  long  as  they  are  merely  busybodies,  and 
are  prompted  in  their  officious,  fluttering,  unproductive  activ- 
ity by  no  bad  motive  and  no  malignant  passion,  they  cannot, 
perhaps,  be  excluded  from  the  party,  though  they  have  really 
no  claim  to  be  admitted  into  it.  But  here,  too,  the  case  of  a 
mere  busybody  scarce  ever  occurs.  This  character  is  almost 
always  something  more  —  a  dangerous  gossip ;  a  tattling  mis- 
chief-maker ;  a  propagator,  too  frequently  an  inventor,  of  slan- 
der. He  repeats  at  one  fireside,  with  additions,  what  he  had 
heard  at  another  under  the  implied  obligation  of  confidence ; 
he  often  takes  the  lead  in  uneasy  and  inconsiderate  move- 
ments, safely  intrenched  behind  his  neighbor,  whom  he 
pushes  into  trouble.  He  is  very  fond  of  writing  anonymous 
libels  in  the  newspapers  on  men  of  whom  he  knows  nothing. 
Such  men  —  and  there  are  too  many  of  them  —  ought  to  be 
excluded  from  the  party. 

Shutting  out,  then,  all  who  work  dishonestly  and  all  who 
do  net  work  at  all,  and  admitting  the  busybodies  with  great 
caution,  the  workingmen's  party  comprehends  all  those  by 
whom  the  work  of  the  community  is  really  done ;  all  those 
who,  by  any  kind  of  honest  industry,  employ  the  talent  which 
their  Creator  has  given  them.  All  these  form  one  party,  one 
great,  comprehensive  society,  and  this  by  the  very  law  of  our 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PAATY.  291 

nature.  Man  is  not  only,  as  I  observed  in  the  beginning,  a 
working  being,  but  he  is  a  being  formed  to  work  in  society  ; 
and  if  the  matter  be  carefully  analyzed,  it  will  be  found  that 
civilization  —  that  is,  the  bringing  men  out  of  a  savage  into 
a  cultivated  state  —  consists  in  multiplying  the  number  of 
pursuits  and  occupations ;  so  that  the  most  perfect  society  is 
one  where  the  largest  number  of  persons  are  prosperously 
employed  in  the  greatest  variety  of  ways.  In  such  a  society 
men  help  each  other,  instead  of  standing  in  each  other's  way. 
The  further  this  division  of  labor  is  carried,  the  more  persons 
must  unite  harmoniously  to  effect  the  common  ends.  The 
larger  the  number  on  which  each  depends,  the  larger  the 
number  to  which  each  is  useful. 

This  union  of  different  kinds  of  workmen  in  one  harmo- 
nious society  seems  to  be  laid  in  the  very  structure  and 
organization  of  man.  Man  is  a  being  consisting  of  a  body 
and  a  soul.  These  words  are  soon  uttered,  and  they  are  so 
often  uttered  that  the  mighty  truth  which  is  embraced  in 
them  scarce  ever  engages  our  attention.  But  man  is  com- 
posed of  body  and  soul.  What  is  body  ?  It  is  material  sub- 
stance ;  it  is  clay,  dust,  ashes.  Look  at  it,  as  you  tread  it, 
unorganized,  beneath  your  feet ;  contemplate  it  when,  after 
having  been  organized  and  animated,  it  returns,  by  a  process 
of  corruption,  to  its  original' state.  Matter,  in  its  appearance 
to  us,  is  an  unorganized,  inanimate,  cold,  dull,  and  barren 
thing.  What  it  is  in  its  essence,  no  one  but  the  Being  who 
created  it  knows.  The  human  mind  can  conceive  of  it  but 
in  a  negative  way.  What  is  the  soul  ?  Its  essence  is  as 
little  known  to  us  as  that  of  the  body ;  but  its  qualities  are 
angelic,  divine.  It  is  the  soul  which  thinks,  reasons,  invents, 
remembers,  hopes,  and  loves.  It  is  the  soul  which  lives ;  for 
when  the  soul  departs  from  the  body,  all  its  vital  powers 
cease,  and  it  is  dead :  and  what  is  the  body  then  ? 

Now,  the  fact  to  which  I  wish  to  call  your  attention  is, 
that  these  two  elements,  one  of  which  is  akin  to  the  dust  on 
which  we  tread,  and  the  other  of  which  is  of  the  nature  of 
angelic,  and  even  of  divine  intelligence,  are  in  every  human 
being,  without  exception,  brought  into  a  most  intimate  union. 


292  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

We  can  conceive  that  it  might  have  been  different.  We 
believe  in  the  existence  of  incorporeal  beings  of  a  nature 
higher  than  man ;  and  we  behold  beneath  us,  in  brutes, 
plants,  and  stones,  various  orders  of  material  nature,  rising 
one  above  another  in  organization ;  but  none  of  them  (as  we 
suppose)  possessing  mind.  We  can  imagine  a  world  so  con- 
stituted that  all  the  intellect  would  have  been  by  itself,  pure 
and  disembodied ;  and  all  the  material  substance  by  itself, 
unmixed  with  mind ;  and  acted  upon  by  mind,  as  inferior 
beings  are  supposed  to  be  acted  upon  by  angels.  But  in  con- 
stituting our  race,  it  pleased  the  Creator  to  bring  the  two 
elements  into  the  closest  union ;  to  take  the  body  from  the 
dust,  the  soul  from  the  highest  heaven,  and  mould  them  into 
one  being. 

The  consequence  is,  that  the  humblest  laborer,  who  works 
with  his  hands,  possesses  within  him  a  soul,  endowed  with 
precisely  the  same  faculties  as  those  which,  in  Franklin,  in 
Newton,  or  Shakspeare,  have  been  the  light  and  the  wonder 
of  the  world.  On  the  other  hand,  the  most  gifted  and  ethe- 
real genius,  whose  mind  has  fathomed  the  depths  of  the  heav- 
ens, and  comprehended  the  whole  circle  of  truth,  is  enclosed 
in  a  body,  subject  to  the  same  passions,  infirmities,  and  wants 
as  the  man  whose  life  knows  no  alternation,  but  labor  and 
rest,  appetite  and  indulgence. 

Did  it  stop  here,  it  would  be  merely  an  astonishing  fact  in 
the  constitution  of  our  natures.  But  it  does  not  stop  here. 
In  consequence  of  the  union  of  the  two  principles  in  the  hu- 
man nature,  every  act  that  a  man  performs  requires  the  agency 
both  of  body  and  mind.  His  mind  cannot  see,  but  through 
the  optic  eye-glass;  nor  hear,  till  the  drum  of  his  ear  is  af- 
fected by  the  vibrations  of  the  air.  If  he  would  speak,  he 
puts  in  action  the  complex  machinery  of  the  vocal  organs  ; 
if  he  writes,  he  employs  the  muscular  system  of  the  hands ; 
nor  can  he  satisfactorily  perform  the  operations  of  thought, 
except  in  a  healthy  state  of  the  body.  A  fit  of  the  tooth- 
ache, proceeding  from  the  irritation  of  a  nerve  about  as  big  as 
a  cambric  thread,  is  enough  to  drive  an  understanding  capable 
of  instructing  the  world,  to  the  verge  of  insanity.  On  the 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY.  293 

other  hand,  there  is  no  operation  of  manual  labor  so  simple, 
so  mechanical,  which  does  not  require  the  exercise  of  percep- 
tion, reflection,  memory,  and  judgment ;  the  same  intellectual 
powers  by  which  the  highest  truths  of  science  have  been 
discovered  and  illustrated. 

The  degree  to  which  any  particular  action  (or  series  of 
actions  united  into  a  pursuit)  shall  exeroise  the  intellectual 
powers,  on  the  one  hand,  or  the  mechanical  powers,  on  the 
other,  of  course  depends  on  the  nature  of  that  action.  The 
peasant,  whose  life,  from  childhood  to  the  grave,  is  passed  in 
the  field ;  the  New  Zealander,  who  goes  to  war  when  he  is 
hungry,  devours  his  prisoners,  and  leads  a  life  of  cannibal 
debauch  till  he  has  consumed  them  all,  and  then  goes  to  war 
again ;  the  Greenlander,  who  warms  himself  with  the  frag- 
ments of  wrecks  and  drift-wood  thrown  upon  the  glaciers, 
and  feeds  himself  with  blubber,  —  seem  all  to  lead  lives  requir- 
ing but  little  intellectual  action  ;  and  yet,  as  I  have  remarked, 
a  careful  reflection  would  show  that  there  is  not  one,  even  of 
them,  who  does  not,  every  moment  of  his  life,  call  into  exer- 
cise, though  in  an  humble  degree,  all  the  powers  of  the  mind. 
In  like  manner,  the  philosopher,  who  shuts  himself  up  in  his 
cell,  and  leads  a  contemplative  existence  among  books  or  in- 
struments of  science,  seems  to  have  no  occasion  to  employ, 
in  their  ordinary  exercise,  many  of  the  capacities  of  his  nature 
for  physical  action ;  although  he  also,  as  I  have  observed, 
cannot  act,  or  even  think,  but  with  the  aid  of  his  body. 

The  same  Creator  who  made  man  a  mixed  being,  com- 
posed of  body  and  soul,  having  designed  him  for  such  a  world 
as  that  in  which  we  live,  has  so  constituted  the  world,  and 
man  who  inhabits  it,  as  to  afford  scope  for  great  variety  of 
occupations,  pursuits,  and  conditions,  arising  from  the  tastes, 
characters,  habits,  virtues,  and  even  vices,  of  men  and  com- 
munities. Though  all  men  are  alike  composed  of  body  and 
soul,  yet  no  two  men,  probably,  are  exactly  the  same  in  re- 
spect to  either ;  and  provision  has  been  made,  by  the  Author 
of  our  being,  for  an  infinity  of  pursuits  and  employments, 
calling  out,  in  degrees  as  various,  the  peculiar  powers  of  both 
principles. 


294  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

But  I  have  already  endeavored  to  show,  that  there  is  no 
pursuit,  and  no  action,  that  does  not  require  the  united  opera- 
tion of  both ;  and  this  of  itself  is  a  broad,  natural  founda- 
tion for  the  union  into  one  interest  of  all  in  the  same  commu- 
nity, who  are  employed  in  honest  work  of  any  kind  ;  namely, 
that  however  various  their  occupations,  they  are  all  working 
with  the  same  instiuments  —  the  organs  of  the  body  and  the 
powers  of  the  mind. 

But  we  may  go  a  step  farther,  to  remark  the  beautiful  pro- 
cess by  which  Providence  has  so  interlaced  and  wrought  up 
together  the  pursuits,  interests,  and  wants,  of  our  nature,  that 
the  philosopher,  whose  home  seems  less  on  earth  than  among 
the  stars,  requires,  for  the  prosecution  of  his  studies,  the  aid 
of  numerous  artificers  in  various  branches  of  mechanical 
industry  ;  and,  in  return,  furnishes  the  most  important  facili- 
ties to  the  humblest  branches  of  manual  labor.  Let  us  take, 
as  a  single  instance,  that  of  astronomical  science.  It  may  be 
safely  said,  that  the  wonderful  discoveries  of  modern  astron- 
omy, and  the  philosophical  system  depending  upon  them, 
could  not  have  existed,  but  for  the  telescope.  The  want  of 
the  telescope  kept  astronomical  science  in  its  infancy,  among 
the  ancients.  Although  Pythagoras,  one  of  the  earliest  Greek 
philosophers,  is  supposed  to  have  had  some  conception  of  the 
elements  of  the  Copernican  system,  yet  we  find  no  general 
and  practical  improvement  resulting  from  it.  In  fact,  it  sunk 
beneath  the  false  theories  of  subsequent  philosophers.  It 
was  only  from  the  period  of  the  discoveries  made  by  the 
telescope  that  the  science  advanced  with  sure  and  rapid 
progress.  Now,  the  astronomer  does  not  make  telescopes.  I 
presume  it  would  be  impossible  for  a  person,  who  employed 
in  the  abstract  study  of  astronomical  science  time  enough  to 
comprehend  its  profound  investigations,  to  learn  and  practise 
the  trade  of  making  glass.  It  is  not  less  true,  that  those  em- 
ployed in  making  the  glass  could  not,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
be  expected  to  acquire  the  scientific  knowledge  requisite  for 
carrying  on  those  arduous  calculations  applied  to  bring  into  a 
system  the  discoveries  made  by  the  magnifying  power  of  the 
telescope.  I  might  extend  the  same  remark  to  the  other 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY.  295 

materials  of  which  a  telescope  consists.  It  cannot  be  used  to 
any  purpose  of  nice  observation,  without  being  very  carefully 
mounted  on  a  frame  of  strong  metal,  which  demands  the 
united  labors  of  the  mathematical  instrument  maker  and  the 
brass  founder.  Here,  then,  in  taking  but  one  single  step  out 
of  the  philosopher's  observatory,  we  find  he  needs  an  instru- 
ment, to  be  produced  by  the  united  labors  of  the  mathemati- 
cal instrument  maker,  the  brass  founder,  the  glass  polisher, 
and  the  maker  of  glass,  —  four  trades.  He  must,  also,  have 
an  astronomical  clock  ;  and  it  would  be  easy  to  count  up  half 
a  dozen  trades,  which,  directly  or  indirectly,  are  connected  in 
making  a  clock. 

But  let  us  go  back  to  the  object  glass  of  the  telescope.  A 
glass  factory  requires  a  building  and  furnaces.  The  man  who 
makes  the  glass  does  not  make  the  building.  But  the  stone 
and  brick  mason,  the  carpenter,  and  the  blacksmith  must  fur- 
nish the  greater  part  of  the  labor  and  skill  required  to  construct 
the  building.  When  it  is  built,  a  large  quantity  of  fuel, 
wood  and  wood  coal  or  mineral  coal,  of  various  kinds,  or  all 
together,  must  be  provided ;  and  then  the  materials  of  which 
the  glass  is  made,  and  with  which  it  is  colored,  some  of  which 
are  furnished  by  commerce  from  different  and  distant  regions, 
and  must  be  brought  in  ships  across  the  sea.  We  cannot 
take  up  any  one  of  these  trades  without  immediately  finding 
that  it  connects  itself  with  numerous  others.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  mason  who  builds  the  furnace.  He  does  not 
make  his  own  bricks,  nor  burn  his  own  lime ;  in  common 
cases,  the  bricks  come  from  one  place,  the  lime  from  another, 
the  sand  from  another.  The  brick-maker  does  not  cut  down 
his  own  wood  ;  it  is  carted  or  brought  in  boats  to  his  brick- 
yard. The  man  who  carts  it  does  not  make  his  own  wagon ; 
nor  does  the  person  who  brings  it  in  boats  build  his  own  boat. 
The  man  who  makes  the  wagon  does  not  make  its  tire.  The 
blacksmith  who  makes  the  tire  does  not  smelt  the  ore ;  and 
the  forgeman  who  smelts  the  ore  does  not  build  his  own  fur- 
nace, (and  there  we  get  back  to  the  point  whence  we  started,) 
nor  dig  his  own  mine.  The  man  who  digs  the  mine  does 
not  make  the  pickaxe  with  which  he  digs  it,  nor  the 


296  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

pump  with  which  he  keeps  out  the  water.  The  man  who 
makes  the  pump  did  not  discover  the  principle  of  atmospheric 
pressure,  which  led  to  pump  making ;  that  was  done  by  a 
mathematican  at  Florence,  (Torricelli,)  experimenting  in  his 
chamber  on  a  glass  tube.  And  here  we  come  back  again  to 
our  glass ;  and  to  an  instance  of  the  close  connection  of  sci- 
entific research  with  practical  art.  It  is  plain  that  this  enu- 
meration might  be  pursued,  till  every  art  and  every  science 
were  shown  to  run  into  every  other.  No  one  can  doubt  this 
who  will  go  over  the  subject  in  his  own  mind,  beginning 
with  any  one  of  the  processes  of  mining  and  working  metals, 
of  ship-building  and  navigation,  and  the  other  branches  of 
art  and  industry  pursued  in  civilized  communities. 

If,  then,  on  the  one  hand,  the  astronomer  depends  for  his 
telescope  on  the  ultimate  product  of  so  many  arts,  in  return, 
his  observations  are  the  basis  of  an  astronomical  system,  and 
of  calculations  of  the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
which  furnish  the  mariner  with  his  best  guide  across  the 
ocean.  The  prudent  shipmaster  would  no  more  think  of 
sailing  for  India  without  his  Practical  Navigator,  than  he 
would  without  his  compass ;  and  this  Navigator  contains  ta- 
bles drawn  from  the  highest  walks  of  astronomical  science. 
Every  first  mate  of  a  vessel,  who  works  a  lunar  observation 
to  ascertain  the  ship's  longitude,  employs  tables,  in  which  the 
most  wonderful  discoveries  and  calculations  of  Newton,  La 
Place,  and  Bowditch  are  interwoven. 

I  mention  this  as  but  one  of  the  cases  in  which  astronomi- 
cal science  promotes  the  service  and  convenience  of  common 
life ;  and  perhaps,  when  we  consider  the  degree  to  which  the 
modern  extension  of  navigation  connects  itself  with  industry, 
in  all  its  branches,  this  may  be  thought  sufficient.  I  will 
only  add,  that  the  cheap  convenience  of  an  almanac,  which 
enters  into  the  comforts  of  every  fireside  in  the  country,  could 
not  be  enjoyed,  but  for  the  labors  and  studies  of  the  profound- 
est  philosophers.  Not  that  great  learning  or  talent  is  now 
required  to  execute  the  astronomical  calculations  of  an  alma- 
nac, although  no  inconsiderable  share  of  each  is  needed  for 
this  purpose  ;  but  because,  even  to  perform  these  calculations 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY.  297 

requires  the  aid  of  tables,  which  have  been  gradually  formed 
on  the  basis  of  the  profoundest  investigations  of  the  long  line 
of  philosophers  who  have  devoted  themselves  to  this  branch 
of  science.  For,  as  we  observed  on  the  mechanical  side  of 
the  illustration,  it  is  not  one  trade  alone  which  is  required  to 
furnish  the  philosopher  with  his  instrument,  but  a  great  vari- 
ety ;  so,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  the  philosopher,  in  one 
department,  who  creates  a  science  out  of  nothing.  The  ob- 
serving astronomer  furnishes  materials  to  the  calculating 
astronomer,  and  the  calculator  derives  methods  from  the  pure 
mathematician ;  and  a  long  succession  of  each,  for  ages,  must 
unite  their  labors  in  a  great  result.  Without  the  geometry 
of  the  Greeks  and  the  algebra  of  the  Arabs,  the  analysis  of 
Newton  and  Leibnitz  might  never  have  been  invented. 

Examples  and  illustrations  equally  instructive  might  be 
found  in  every  other  branch  of  industry.  The  man  who  will 
go  into  a  cotton  mill,  and  contemplate  it,  from  the  great  water 
wheel  that  gives  the  first  movement,  (and  still  more,  from  the 
steam  engine,  should  that  be  the  moving  power,)  —  who  will 
observe  the  parts  of  the  machinery,  and  the  various  processes 
of  the  fabric,  till  he  reaches  the  hydraulic  press,  with  which 
it  is  made  into  a  bale,  and  the  canal  or  railroad  by  which  it  is 
sent  to  market, — may  find  every  branch  of  trade  and  every 
department  of  science  literally  crossed,  intertwined,  inter- 
woven with  every  other,  like  the  woof  and  the  warp  of  the 
article  manufactured.  Not  a  little  of  the  spinning  machinery 
is  constructed  on  principles  drawn  from  the  demonstrations 
of  transcendental  mathematics ;  and  the  processes  of  bleach- 
ing and  dyeing,  now  practised,  are  the  results  of  the  most 
profound  researches  of  modern  chemistry.  And  if  this  does 
not  satisfy  the  inquirer,  let  him  trace  the  cotton  to  the  planta- 
tion where  it  grew,  in  Georgia  or  Alabama ;  the  indigo  to  Ben- 
gal ;  the  oil  to  the  olive  gardens  of  Italy,  or  the  fishing-grounds 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean :  let  him  consider  Whitney's  cotton  gin, 
Whittemore's  carding  machine,  the  power  loom,  and  the  spin- 
ning apparatus,  and  all  the  arts,  trades,  and  sciences,  directly  or 
indirectly  connected  with  these,  and  I  believe  he  will  soon 
agree  that  one  might  start  from  a  yard  of  coarse  printed 
VOL.  i.  38 


298  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

cotton,  which  costs  ten  cents,  and  prove  out  of  it,  as  out  of  a 
text,  that  every  art  and  science  under  heaven  had  been  con- 
cerned in  its  fabric. 

I  ought  here  to  allude  also  to  some  of  those  pursuits  which 
require  the  ability  to  exercise,  at  the  same  time,  on  the  par 
of  the  same  individual,  the  faculties  both  of  the  intellectua* 
and  physical  nature,  or  which  unite  very  high  and  low  de- 
grees of  mental  power.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  talent  for 
di  awing  and  painting,  possessed  by  some  men  to  such  an  ad- 
mirable degree,  depends  partly  on  a  peculiar  organic  structure 
of  the  eye,  and  of  the  muscles  of  the  hand,  which  gives  them 
their  more  delicate  perceptions  of  color,  and  their  greater  skill 
in  delineation.  These,  no  doubt,  are  possessed  by  many 
individuals  who  want  the  intellectual  talent,  the  poetic  fire, 
required  for  a  great  painter.  On  the  other  hand,  I  can  con- 
ceive of  a  man's  possessing  the  invention  and  imagination  of 
a  painter,  without  the  eye  and  the  hand  required  to  embody 
on  the  canvas  the  ideas  and  images  in  his  mind.  When  the 
two  unite,  they  make  a  Raphael  or  a  Titian  ;  a  Wilkie  or  an 
Allston.  An  accomplished  statuary  must,  on  the  one  hand, 
possess  a  soul  filled  with  all  grand  and  lovely  images,  and 
have  a  living  conception  of  ideal  beauty ;  and  on  th«  other 
hand,  he  must  be  a  good  stonecutter,  and  able  to  take  a 
hammer  and  a  chisel  in  his  hand,  and  go  to  work  on  a  block 
of  marble,  and  chip  it  down  to  the  lip  of  Apollo  or  the  eye- 
lid of  Venus.  The  architect  must  be  practically  acquainted 
with  all  the  materials  of  building  —  wood,  brick,  mortar,  and 
stone ;  he  must  have  the  courage  and  skill  to  plant  his  moles 
against  the  heaving  ocean,  and  to  hang  his  ponderous  domes 
and  gigantic  arches  in  the  air ;  while  he  must  have  taste  to 
combine  the  rough  and  scattered  blocks  of  the  quarry  into 
beautiful  and  majestic  structures,  and  discern  clearly,  in  his 
mind's  eye,  before  a  sledge  has  been  lifted,  the  elevation  and 
proportions  of  the  temple.  The  poet  must  know,  with  a 
schoolmaster's  precision,  the  weight  of  every  word,  and  what 
vowel  follows  most  smoothly  on  what  consonant ;  at  the  same 
time  that  his  soul  must  be  stored  with  images,  feelings,  and 
thoughts,  beyond  the  power  of  the  boldest  and  most  glowing 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY.  299 

language  to  do  more  than  faintly  shadow  out.  The  surgeon 
must  at  once  have  a  mind  naturally  gifted,  and  diligently 
trained,  to  penetrate  the  dark  recesses  of  organic  life ;  and  a 
nerve  and  tact  which  will  enable  him  to  guide  his  knife 
among  veins  and  arteries,  out  of  sight,  in  the  living  body 
of  an  agonizing,  shrieking  fellow-creature  ;  or  to  take  a  lancet 
in  his  left  hand,  and  cut  into  the  apple  of  the  eye.  The 
lawyer  must  be  able  to  reason  from  the  noblest  principles  of 
human  duty,  and  the  most  generous  feelings  of  human  nature  ; 
he  must  fully  comprehend  the  mighty  maze  of  the  social 
relations ;  he  must  carry  about  with  him  a  stock  of  learning 
almost  boundless  ;  he  must  be  a  sort  of  god  to  men  and  com- 
munities, who  look  up  to  him  in  the  hour  of  the  dearest  peril 
of  their  lives  and  fortunes  ;  and  he  must,  at  the  same  time,  be 
conversant  with  a  tissue  of  the  most  senseless  fictions  and 
arbitrary  technicalities  that  ever  disgraced  a  liberal  science. 
The  merchant  must  be  able  to  look,  at  the  same  moment,  at 
the  markets  and  exchanges  of  distant  countries  and  other 
hemispheres,  and  combine  considerations  of  the  political  con- 
dition, the  natural  wants,  the  tastes  and  habits,  of  different 
parts  of  the  world ;  and  he  must  be  expert  at  figures,  under- 
stand book-keeping  by  double  entry,  and  know  as  well  how 
to  take  care  of  a  quarter  chest  of  tea  as  a  cargo  of  specie. 
The  general-in-chief  must  be  capable  of  calculating,  for  a 
twelvemonth  in  advance,  the  result  of  a  contest  in  which  all 
the  power,  resource,  and  spirit  of  two  great  empires  enter  and 
struggle,  on  land  and  by  sea ;  and  he  must  have  an  eye  that 
can  tell  at  a  glance,  and  on  the  responsibility  of  his  life,  how 
the  stone  walls,  and  trenched  meadows,  the  barns,  and  the 
woods,  and  the  cross-roads  of  a  neighborhood,  will  favor  or 
resist  the  motions  of  a  hundred  thousand  men,  scattered  over 
a  space  of  five  miles,  in  the  fury  of  the  advance,  the  storm 
of  battle,  the  agony  of  flight,  covered  with  smoke,  dust,  and 
blood. 

It  was  my  intention  to  subject  the  art  of  printing  to  an 
analysis  of  the  trades,  arts,  and  sciences  connected  with  it ; 
but  1  have  not  time  to  do  it  full  justice,  and  the  bare 
general  idea  need  not  be  repeated.  1  will  only  say,  that 


300  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

beginning  with  the  invention  which  bears,  in  popular 
tradition,  the  name  of  Cadmus,  —  I  mean  the  invention  of 
alphabetical  signs,  to  express  sounds,  —  and  proceeding  to 
the  discovery  of  convenient  materials  for  writing,  and  the 
idea  of  written  discourse  ;  thence  to  the  preparation  of  man- 
uscript books  ;  and  thence  to  the  fabric,  on  a  large  scale,  of 
linen  and  cotton  paper,  the  invention  of  movable  types  and 
the  printing  press,  the  art  of  engraving  on  metal,  of  stereotype 
printing,  and  of  the  power  press,  —  we  have  a  series  of  dis- 
coveries, branching  out  into  others,  in  every  department  of 
human  pursuit ;  connecting  the  highest  philosophical  princi- 
ples with  the  results  of  mere  manual  labor,  and  producing,  in 
the  end,  that  system  of  diffusing  and  multiplying  the  expres- 
sion of  thought,  which  is,  perhaps,  the  glory  of  our  human 
nature.  Pliny  said  that  the  Egyptian  reed  was  the  support 
on  which  the  immortal  fame  of  man  rests.  He  referred  to 
its  use  in  the  manufacture  of  paper.  We  may,  with  greater 
justice,  say  as  much  of  the  manufacture  of  paper  from  rags, 
and  of  the  printing  press,  neither  of  which  was  known  to 
Pliny.  But,  with  all  the  splendor  of  modern  discoveries  and 
improvements  in  science  and  art,  I  cannot  but  think  that  he, 
who,  in  the  morning  of  the  world,  first  conceived  the  idea  of 
representing  sounds  by  visible  signs,  took  the  most  impor- 
tant step  in  the  march  of  improvement.  This  sublime  con- 
ception was  struck  out  in  the  infancy  of  mankind.  The 
name  of  its  author,  his  native  country,  and  the  time  when 
he  lived,  are  known  only  by  very  uncertain  tradition ;  but, 
though  all  the  intelligence  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  and 
in  the  most  improved  countries,  has  been  concentred  into  a 
focus,  burning  and  blazing  upon  this  one  spot,  it  has  never 
been  able  to  reduce  it  to  any  simpler  elements,  nor  to  im- 
prove, in  the  slightest  degree,  upon  the  original  suggestion  of 
Cadmus. 

In  what  I  have  thus  far  submitted  to  you,  you  will  proba- 
bly have  remarked  that  I  have  illustrated  chiefly  the  connec- 
tion with  each  other  of  the  various  branches  of  science  and 
art ;  of  the  intellectual  and  physical  principles.  I  have  not 
•listinctly  shown  the  connection  of  the  moral  principle,  in  all 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PAKTY.  301 

its  great  branches,  with  both.  This  subject  would  well  form 
the  matter  of  a  separate  essay.  But  its  elementary  ideas  are 
few  and  plain.  The  arts  and  sciences,  whose  connection  we 
have  pointed  out,  it  is  plain,  require  for  their  cultivation  a 
•"vilized  state  of  society.  They  cannot  thrive  in  a  commu- 
nity which  is  not  in  a  state  of  regular  political  organization, 
under  an  orderly  system  of  government,  uniform  administra- 
tion of  laws,  and  a  general  observance  of  the  dictates  of 
public  and  social  morality.  Further,  such  a  community 
cannot  exist  without  institutions  of  various  kinds  for  elemen- 
tary, professional,  and  moral  education  ;  and,  connected  with 
these,  are  required  the  services  of  a  large  class  of  individuals, 
employed,  in  various  ways,  in  the  business  of  instruction  ; 
from  the  meritorious  schoolmistress,  who  teaches  the  little 
child  its  ABC,  to  the  moralist,  who  lays  down  the  great 
principles  of  social  duty  for  men  and  nations,  and  the  minis- 
ter of  divine  truth,  who  inculcates  those  sanctions  by  which 
God  himself  enforces  the  laws  of  reason.  There  must  also 
be  a  class  of  men,  competent,  by  their  ability,  education,  and 
experience,  to  engage  in  the  duty  of  making  and  administer- 
ing the  law  ;  for,  in  a  lawless  society,  it  is  impossible  that 
any  improvement  should  be  permanent ;  and  there  must  be 
another  class,  skilled  to  afford  relief  to  the  sick,  and  thus  pro- 
tect our  frail  natures  from  the  power  of  the  numerous  foes 
that  assail  them. 

It  needs  no  words  to  show  that  all  these  pursuits  are,  in 
reality,  connected  with  the  ordinary  work  of  society,  as 
directly  as  the  mechanical  trades  by  which  it  is  carried  on. 
For  instance,  nothing  would  so  seriously  impair  the  prosperity 
of  a  community  as  an  unsound  and  uncertain  administration 
of  justice.  This  is  the  last  and  most  fatal  symptom  of  decline 
in  a  state.  A  community  can  bear  a  very  considerable  degree 
of  political  despotism,  if  justice  is  duly  administered  between 
man  and  man.  But,  where  a  man  has  no  security  that  tho 
law  will  protect  him  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  property  ;  where 
he  cannot  promise  himself  a  righteous  judgment,  in  the  event 
of  a  controversy  with  his  neighbor  ;  where  he  is  not  sure, 
when  he  lies  down  at  night,  that  his  slumbers  are  safe,  —  there 


302  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

he  loses  the  great  motives  to  industry  and  probity  ;  credit  is 
shaken,  enterprise  disheartened,  and  the  state  declines.  The 
profession,  therefore,  which  is  devoted  to  the  administration 
of  justice,  renders  a  service  to  every  citizen  of  the  community, 
as  important  as  to  those  whose  immediate  affairs  require  the 
aid  of  legal  counsel. 

In  a  very  improved  and  civilized  community,  there  are  also 
numerous  individuals,  who,  without  being  employed  in  any 
of  the  common  branches  of  industry  or  of  professional  pur- 
suit, connect  themselves,  nevertheless,  with  the  prosperity 
and  happiness  of  the  public,  and  fill  a  useful  and  honorable 
place  in  its  service.  Take,  for  instance,  a  man  like  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  who,  probably,  never  did  a  day's  work  in  his 
life,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  term,  and  who  has,  for 
some  years,  retired  from  the  subordinate  station  he  filled  in 
the  profession  of  the  law,  as  sheriff  of  the  county  and  clerk 
of  the  court.  He  has  written  and  published  at  least  two 
hundred  volumes,  of  wide  circulation.  What  a  vast  amount 
of  the  industry  of  the  community  is  thereby  put  in  motion  ! 
The  booksellers,  printers,  paper  makers,  press  makers,  type 
makers,  bookbinders,  leather  dressers,  ink  makers,  and  various 
other  artisans  required  to  print,  publish,  and  circulate,  the 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  volumes  of  the  different  works 
which  he  has  written,  must  be  almost  numberless.  I  have 
not  the  least  doubt,  that,  since  the  series  of  his  publications 
began,  if  all,  whose  industry,  directly  or  remotely,  has  been 
concerned  in  them,  not  only  in  Great  Britain,  but  in  America, 
and  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  could  be  brought  together, 
and  stationed  side  by  side,  as  the  inhabitants  of  the  same 
place,  they  would  form  a  town  of  very  considerable  size. 
Such  a  person  may  fairly  be  ranked  as  a  workingman. 

And  yet,  I  take  this  to  be  the  ieast  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
deserts.  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  service  rendered  to  every 
class,  and  to  every  individual  in  every  class,  by  the  writer  who 
beguiles  of  their  tediousness  the  dull  hours  of  life  ;  who  ani- 
mates the  principle  of  goodness  within  us  by  glowing  pictures 
of  struggling  virtue ;  who  furnishes  our  young  men  and 
women  with  books  which  they  may  read  with  interest,  and 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY.  303 

not  have  their  morals  poisoned  as  they  read  them.  Our 
habits,  our  principles,  our  characters,  whatever  may  be  our 
pursuit  in  life,  depend  very  much  on  the  nature  of  our  youth- 
ful pleasures,  and  on  the  mode  in  which  we  learn  to  pass  our 
leisure  hours.  And  he  who,  with  the  blessing  of  Providence, 
has  been  able,  by  his  mental  efforts,  to  present  virtue  in  her 
strong  attractions,  and  vice  in  her  native  deformity,  to  the 
rising  generation,  has  rendered  a  service  to  the  public  greater 
even  than  his  who  invented  the  steam  engine  or  the  mariner's 
compass. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  to  show,  in  a  plain  manner,  that 
there  is  a  close  and  cordial  union  between  the  various  pur- 
suits and  occupations  which  receive  the  attention  of  men*  in 
a  civilized  community,  —  that  they  are  links  of  the  same 
chain,  every  one  of  which  is  essential  to  its  strength. 

It  will  follow,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  as  the  dictate 
of  reason,  and  as  the  law  of  nature,  that  every  man  in  soci- 
ety, whatever  his  pursuit,  who  devotes  himself  to  it  with  an 
honest  purpose,  and  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  social  duty  which 
Providence  devolves  upon  him,  is  entitled  to  the  good  fellow- 
ship of  each  and  every  other  member  of  the  community  ; 
that  all  are  the  parts  of  one  whole,  and  that  between  those 
parts,  as  there  is  but  one  interest,  so  there  should  be  but  one 
feeling. 

Before  I  close  this  lecture,  permit  me  to  dwell  for  a  short 
time  on  the  principle  which  I  have  had  occasion  to  advance, 
that  the  immortal  element  of  our  nature  —  the  reasoning  mind 
—  is  the  inheritance  of  all  our  race.  As  it  is  this  which 
makes  man  superior  to  the  beasts  that  perish,  so  it  is  this 
which,  in  its  moral  and  intellectual  endowments,  is  the  sole 
foundation  for  the  only  distinctions  between  man  and  man 
which  have  any  real  value.  This  reflection  shows  the  im- 
portance of  institutions  for  education  and  for  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge.  It  was  no  magic,  nor  miracle,  which  made 
Newton,  and  Franklin,  and  Fulton.  It  was  the  patient,  judi- 
cious, long-continued  cultivation  of  powers  of  the  under- 
standing, eminent,  no  doubt,  in  degree,  but  not  differing  iu 


304  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

kind  from  those  which  are  possessed  by  every  individual  in 
this  assembly. 

Let  every  one,  then,  reflect,  especially  every  person  not  yet 
past  the  forming  period  of  his  life,  that  he  carries  about  in  his 
frame,  as  in  a  casket,  the  most  glorious  thing  which,  this  side 
heaven,  God  has  been  pleased  to  create — an  intelligent  spirit. 
To  describe  its  nature,  to  enumerate  its  faculties,  to  set  forth 
what  it  has  done,  to  estimate  what  it  can  do,  would  require 
the  labor  of  a  life  devoted  to  the  history  of  man.  It  would 
be  vain,  on  this  occasion  and  in  these  limits,  to  attempt  it. 
But  let  any  one  compare  his  own  nature  with  that  of  a  plant, 
of  a  brute  beast,  of  an  idiot,  of  a  savage ;  and  then  consider 
that  it  is  in  mind  alone,  and  the  degree  to  which  he  improves 
it,  that  he  differs  essentially  from  any'  of  them. 

And  let  no  one  think  he  wants  opportunity,  encourage- 
ment, or  means.  I  would  not  undervalue  these,  any  or  all 
of  them ;  but  compared  with  what  the  man  does  for  himself, 
they  are  of  little  account.  Industry,  temperance,  and  perse- 
verance are  worth  more  than  all  the  patrons  that  ever  lived 
in  all  the  Augustan  ages.  It  is  these  that  create  patronage 
and  opportunity.  The  cases  of  our  Franklin  and  Fulton  are 
too  familiar  to  bear  repetition.  Consider  that  of  Sir  Hum- 
phry Davy,  who  died  in  1829,  and  who  was,  in  some  de- 
partments of  science,  the  first  philosopher  of  the  age.*  He 
was  born  at  Penzance,  in  Cornwall,  one  of  the  darkest  corners 
of  England ;  his  father  was  a  carver  of  wooden  images  for 
signs,  and  figure-heads,  and  chimney-pieces.  He  himself 
was  apprenticed  to  an  apothecary,  and  made  his  first  exper- 
iments in  chemistry  with  his  master's  phials  and  gallipots, 
aided  by  an  old  syringe,  which  had  been  given  him  by  the 
surgeon  of  a  French  vessel  wrecked  on  the  Land's  End. 
From  the  shop  of  the  apothecary  he  was  transferred  to  the 
office  of  a  surgeon ;  and  never  appears  to  have  had  any  other 
education  than  that  of  a  Cornish  school  in  his  boyhood. 

*  The  sketch  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy  which  follows,  to  the  end  of  the 
lecture,  is  abridged  from  the  article  in  the  Annual  Biography  for  1830. 


THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY.  305 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  the  career  of  the  man  who,  at 
the  age  of  twenty-two,  was  selected  by  our  own  countryman, 
Count  Rumford,  (himself  a  self-taught  benefactor  of  man- 
kind,) to  fill  the  chair  of  chemistry  at  the  Royal  Institution, 
in  London  ;  such  was  the  origin  and  education  of  the  man 
who  discovered  the  metallic  basis  of  the  alkalies  and  the 
earths ;  invented  the  safety  lamp ;  and  placed  himself,  in  a 
few  years,  in  the  chair  of  the  Royal  Society  of  London,  and 
at  the  head  of  the  chemists  of  Europe.  Sir  Humphry 
Davy's  most  brilliant  discoveries  were  effected  by  his  skilful 
application  of  the  galvanic  electricity,  a  principle  whose  ex- 
istence had  been  detected,  a  few  years  before,  by  an  Italian 
philosopher,  from  noticing  the  contractions  of  a  frog's  limb ; 
a  fact  which  shows  how  near  us,  in  every  direction,  the  most 
curious  facts  lie  scattered  by  nature.  With  an  apparatus  con- 
trived by  himself  to  collect  and  condense  this  powerful  agent, 
Sir  Humphry  succeeded  in  decomposing  the  earths  and  the 
alkalies;  and  in  extracting  from  common  potash  the  metal 
(before  unknown)  which  forms  its  base ;  possessing,  at 
seventy  degrees  of  the  thermometer,  the  lustre  and  general 
appearance  of  mercury ;  at  fifty  degrees,  the  appearance  of 
polished  silver  and  the  softness  of  wax  ;  so  light  that  it  floats 
on  water,  and  so  inflammable  that  it  takes  fire  when  thrown 
on  ice. 

These  are,  perhaps,  but  brilliant  novelties ;  though  con- 
nected, no  doubt,  in  the  great  chain  of  cause  and  effect,  with 
principles  of  art  and  science  conducive  to  the  service  of  man. 
But  the  invention  of  the  safety  lamp,  which  enables  the 
miner  to  walk  with  safety  through  an  atmosphere  of  explo- 
sive gas,  arid  has  already  preserved  the  lives  of  hundreds  of 
human  beings,  is  a  title  to  glory  and  the  gratitude  of  his 
fellow-men  which  the  most  renowned  destroyer  of  his  race 
might  envy. 

The  counsels  of  such  a  man,  in  his  retirement  and  seasons 
of  meditation,  are  worth  listening  to.  I  am  sure  you  will 
think  I  bring  this  lecture  to  the  best  conclusion  by  repeating 
a  sentence  from  one  of  his  moral  works. 

VOL..  i  39 


306  THE    WORKINGMEN'S    PARTY. 

"  I  envy,"  says  he,  "no  quality  of  the  mind  or  intellect  in 
others ;  not  genius,  power,  wit,  nor  fancy ;  but  if  I  could 
choose  what  would  be  most  delightful,  and  I  believe  most 
useful  to  me,  I  should  prefer  A  FIRM  RELIGIOUS  BELIEF  to 
every  other  blessing." 


ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE  TO  WORKINGMEN.* 


NOTWITHSTANDING  the  numerous  institutions  for  promoting 
useful  knowledge  in  our  community,  it  was  still  found  that 
many  were  excluded  from  the  benefit  of  them.  The  num- 
ber of  persons  that  can  be  accommodated  in  any  one  hall  is, 
of  course,  limited  ;  and  it  has  been  thought  desirable  to  make 
the  attempt  to  provide  an  additional  course  of  lectures,  for 
the  benefit  of  those  who  have  not  had  it  in  their  power,  for 
this  or  any  other  reason,  to  obtain  access  to  the  other  institu- 
tions which  have  set  so  praiseworthy  an  example  in  this  work 
of  public  utility.  We  are  assembled  this  evening  to  make 
the  beginning  of  this  new  course  of  popular  instruction. 

The  plan  of  this  course  of  lectures  was  suggested  at  so  late 
a  period  this  year,  that  it  may  not,  perhaps,  be  possible,  the 
present  season,  to  carry  it  fully  into  effect,  in  such  a  manner 
as  is  wished  and  designed,  in  reference  to  the  choice  and 
variety  of  subjects.  It  is  intended,  eventually,  that  it  should 
extend  to  the  various  branches  of  natural  science.  It  will 
impart  useful  information  relative  to  the  earth,  the  air,  and 
the  ocean ;  the  wonders  of  the  heavens ;  and  the  mineral 
treasures  beneath  the  surface  of  the  globe.  It  may  extend  to 
the  different  branches  of  natural  history,  and  acquaint  you 
with  the  boundless  variety  of  the  animated  creation.  The 
various  properties  of  bodies  will  form  a  prominent  subject  of 
consideration,  as  the  basis  of  so  many  of  the  arts  and  trades, 
and  the  sources  from  which  so  many  of  the  wants  of  man 


*  An  address  delivered  as  the  introduction  to  the   Franklin  Lectures 
in  Boston,  November  14,  1831. 

(307) 


308         ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

are  supplied.  In  like  manner,  the  various  natural  powerSj  the 
agency  of  fire,  water,  steam,  and  weight,  which,  in  their 
various  combinations,  produce  the  wonders  of  improved  ma- 
chinery by  which  industry  is  facilitated,  and  the  most  impor- 
tant fabrics  are  furnished  cheaply  and  abundantly,  will  not  be 
overlooked.  It  may  be  supposed  that  a  due  share  of  atten- 
tion will  be  paid  to  the  geographical  survey  of  the  globe,  to 
the  history  of  our  own  race,  the  fortunes  of  the  several 
nations  into  which  mankind  have  been  divided,  and  the 
characters  of  great  and  good  men,  who,  long  after  they  have 
departed  from  life,  survive  in  the  gratitude  and  admiration  of 
their  fellow-men.  A  general  and  intelligible  view  of  the 
constitution  and  laws  of  the  country  in  which  we  have  the 
happiness  to  live,  tending,  as  it  will,  to  enlighten  us  in  the 
discharge  of  our  duties  as  citizens,  will  no  doubt  be  presented 
to  you  by  some  who  will  take  a  part  in  these  lectures.  Nor 
will  they,  I  venture  to  hope,  be  brought  to  a  close  without 
having  occasionally  directed  your  thoughts  to  those  views  of 
our  nature  which  belong  to  man  as  a  rational  and  immortal 
being,  and  to  those  duties  and  relations  which  appertain  to 
us  as  accountable  agents. 

The  general  plan  of  these  lectures  extends  to  these  and  all 
other  branches  of  sound  and  useful  knowledge  ;  to  be  treated 
in  such  order  as  circumstances  may  suggest,  and  with  such 
variety  and  selection  of  subjects,  and  fulness  of  detail,  as  the 
convenience  of  the  lecturers  and  the  advantage  of  the  audi- 
ence may  dictate.  They  have  been  called  the  Franklin 
Lectures,  in  honor  of  our  distinguished  townsman,  the  im- 
mortal Franklin,  the  son  of  a  tallow-chandler,  and  the  appren- 
tice to  a  printer,  in  this  city  ;  a  man  who  passed  all  his 
early  years,  and  a  very  considerable  portion  of  his  life,  in 
manual  industry ;  and  who  was  chiefly  distinguished  by  his 
zealous  and  successful  efforts  for  the  promotion  of  useful 
knowledge.  His  name  has  given  lustre  to  the  highest  walks 
of  science,  and  adorns  one  of  the  proudest  pages  of  the  his- 
tory of  our  country  and  the  world.  But  we  have  thought  it 
was  still  more  a  name  of  hope  and  promise  for  an  institution 
like  this,  which  aims  to  promote  useful  knowledge  (the  great 


TO    WORKINGMEN.  309 

study  of  his  life)  among  that  class  from  which  it  was  ever  his 
pride  himself  to  have  sprung. 

It  would  seem,  at  the  commencement  of  a  course  of  public 
instruction  of  this  kind,  a  pertinent  inquiry,  Why  should  we 
endeavor  to  cultivate  and  inform  our  minds,  by  the  pursuit 
of  knowledge  ? 

This  question,  to  which  the  good  sense  of  every  individual 
furnishes,  without  meditation,  some  general  reply,  demands  a 
full  and  careful  answer.  I  shall  endeavor,  in  this  address,  to 
state  some  of  the  reasons  which  go  to  furnish  such  an  answer. 

All  men  should  seek  to  cultivate  and  inform  their  minds, 
by  the  pursuit  of  useful  knowledge,  as  the  great  means  of 
happiness  and  usefulness. 

All  other  things  being  equal,  the  pursuit  and  attainment  of 
knowledge  are,  at  the  time,  the  surest  source  of  happiness. 
I  do  not  mean,  that  knowledge  will  make  up  for  the  want  of 
the  necessaries  and  comforts  of  life  :  it  will  not  relieve  pain, 
heal  disease,  nor  bring  back  lost  friends.  But  if  knowledge 
will  not  do  this,  ignorance  will  do  it  still  less.  And  it  may 
even  be  affirmed,  —  and  all  who  have  made  the  experiment 
themselves  will  testify  to  the  truth  of  the  remark,  —  that  noth- 
ing tends  more  to  soothe  the  wounded  feelings,  to  steal  away 
the  mind  from  its  troubles,  and  to  fill  up  the  weariness  of  a 
sick  chamber,  than  some  intelligible,  entertaining,  good  book, 
read  or  listened  to. 

But  knowledge  is  still  more  important,  as  the  means  of 
being  useful ;  and  the  best  part  of  the  happiness  which  it  pro- 
cures us  is  of  that  purer  and  higher  kind,  which  flows  from 
the  consciousness  that,  in  some  way  or  other,  by  example  or 
positive  service,  we  have  done  good  to  our  fellow-men.  One 
of  the  greatest  modern  philosophers  said  that  knowledge  is 
power  ;  but  it  is  power  because  it  is  usefulness.  It  gives  men 
influence  over  their  fellow-men,  because  it  enables  its  pos- 
sessors to  instruct,  to  direct,  to  please,  and  to  serve  their  fel- 
low-men. But  little  of  this  can  be  done,  without  the  culti- 
vation and  improvement  of  the  mind. 

It  is  the  mind  which  enables  us  to  be  useful,  even  with 
our  bodily  powers.  What  is  strength,  without  knowledge  to 


310        ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

apply  it  ?  What  are  the  curiously  organized  hands,  without 
skill  to  direct  their  motion  ?  The  idiot  has  commonly  all  the 
bodily  organs  and  senses  of  the  most  intelligent  and  useful 
citizen. 

It  is  through  mind  that  man  has  obtained  the  mastery  of 
nature  and  all  its  elements,  and  subjected  the  inferior  races 
of  animals  to  himself.  Take  an  uninformed  savage,  a  bru- 
talized Hottentot,  in  short  any  human  being,  in  whom  the 
divine  spark  of  reason  has  never  been  kindled  to  a  name,  and 
place  him  on  the  sea-shore  in  a  furious  storm,  when  the  waves 
are  rolling  in  as  if  the  fountains  of  the  deep  were  broken  up. 
Did  you  not  know,  from  certain  experience,  that  man,  by  the 
cultivation  of  his  mind,  and  the  application  of  the  useful  arts, 
had  actually  constructed  vessels  in  which  he  floats  securely 
on  the  top  of  these  angry  waves,  you  would  not  think  it  pos- 
sible that  a  being  like  that  we  have  mentioned  could  for  one 
moment  resist  their  fury.  It  is  related  of  some  of  the  North 
American  Indians,  —  a  race  of  men  who  are  trained  from  their 
infancy  to  the  total  suppression  of  their  emotions  of  every 
kind,  and  who  endure  the  most  excruciating  torments  at  the 
stake  without  signs  of  suffering,  —  that  when  they  witnessed 
for  the  first  time,  on  the  western  waters  of  the  United  States, 
the  spectacle  of  a  steamer  under  way,  moving  along  without 
sails  or  oars,  and  spouting  fire  and  smoke,  even  they  could 
not  refrain  from  exclamations  of  wonder.  Hold  out  a  hand- 
ful of  wheat  or  Indian  corn  to  a  person  wholly  uninformed 
of  their  nature,  and  ignorant  of  the  mode  of  cultivating  them, 
and  tell  him  that  by  scattering  these  dry  kernels  abroad,  and 
burying  them  in  the  cold,  damp  earth,  you  can  cause  a  har- 
vest to  spring  up  sufficient  for  a  winter's  supply  of  food,  and 
he  will  think  you  are  mocking  him  by  vain  and  extravagant 
tales.  But  it  is  not  the  less  true  that,  in  these  instances,  as 
in  all  others,  it  is  the  mind  of  man,  possessed  of  the  necessary 
knowledge  and  skill,  that  brings  into  useful  operation,  for  the 
supply  of  human  want,  and  the  support  and  comfort  of  hu- 
man life,  the  properties  and  treasures  of  the  natural  world, 
the  aid  of  inferior  animals,  and  our  own  physical  powers. 

When,  therefore,  we  improve  our  minds  by  the  acquisition 


TO    WORKINGMEN.  311 

of  useful  knowledge,  we  appropriate  to  ourselves,  and  extend 
to  others  to  whom  we  may  impart  our  knowledge,  a  share  of 
this  natural  control  over  all  other  things  which  Providence 
has  granted  to  his  rational  children. 

It  cannot,  it  is  true,  be  expected  to  fall  to  the  lot  of  many 
individuals,  by  extending  their  knowledge  of  the  properties 
and  laws  of  the  natural  world,  to  strike  out  new  discoveries 
and  inventions  of  the  highest  importance.  It  is  as  much  as 
most  men  can  hope  and  promise  themselves,  to  be  enabled  to 
share  the  comfort  and  benefit  of  the  unnumbered  improve- 
ments which,  from  the  beginning  of  time,  have  been  made 
by  others,  and  which,  taken  together,  make  up  the  civiliza- 
tion of  man.  Still  there  are  examples,  in  almost  every  age, 
of  men  who,  by  the  happy  effects  of  their  individual  pursuit 
of  useful  knowledge,  have  conferred  great  benefits  upon  all 
mankind.  I  presume  that,  in  consequence  of  three  inven- 
tions,—  that  of  the  machinery  for  spinning  cotton,  that  of 
the  power  loom,  and  that  of  the  mode  of  separating  the  seed 
of  the  cotton  plant  from  the  fibrous  portion  to  which  it  ad- 
heres, —  the  expense  of  necessary  clothing  is  diminished  twc 
thirds  for  every  man  in  Europe  and  America.  In  other  words*, 
the  useful  knowledge  imparted  to  the  world  by  the  authors 
of  these  inventions,  has  enabled  every  man,  woman,  and  child, 
in  the  civilized  world,  as  far  as  clothing  is  concerned,  to  live 
at  one  third  of  the  former  cost.  We  are  struck  with  aston- 
ishment when  we  behold  these  curious  machines ;  when  we 
look,  for  instance,  at  a  watch,  and  see  a  few  brass  wheels,  put 
in  motion  by  a  small  piece  of  elastic  steel,  counting  out  the 
hours  and  minutes,  by  night  and  by  day,  and  even  enabling 
the  navigator  to  tell  how  many  miles  he  has  sailed  upon  the 
waste  ocean,  where  there  are  no  marks  or  monuments  by 
which  he  can  measure  his  progress.  But  how  much  more 
wonderful  is  the  mind  of  man,  which,  in  the  silence  of  the 
closet,  turned  in  upon  itself,  and  deeply  meditating  upon  the 
properties  and  laws  of  matter,  has  contrived  this  wonderful 
machine  ! 

The  invention  of  the  power  loom  by  Mr  Cartwright  beau- 
tifully illustrates  the  strength  and  reach  of  the  intellectual 


312         ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

principle,  resolutely  applied  to  a  given  object.  In  conse- 
quence of  the  introduction  of  Arkwright's  machinery  for 
spinning,  it  was  soon  found  that  there  would  be  a  difficulty 
in  weaving  all  the  yarn  that  could  be  spun.  It  was  remarked 
in  a  company  where  Mr  Cartwright  was  present,  in  1784, 
that,  in  order  to  remedy  this  evil,  Mr  Arkwright  must  exer- 
cise his  ingenuity,  and  invent  a  weaving  mill,  in  order  to 
work  up  the  yarn  which  should  be  spun  in  his  spinning 
mills.  The  subject  was  discussed ;  and  it  was  pronounced 
by  the  gentlemen  present,  who  were  manufacturers  from 
Manchester,  in  England,  to  be  impossible.  Mr  Cartwright 
thought  otherwise  ;  he  said,  there  had  been  latefy  exhibited, 
in  London,  a  machine  for  playing  chess  ;  and  he  felt  quite 
sure  that  it  could  not  be  more  difficult  to  construct  a  machine 
to  weave  cloth  than  a  machine  which  could  go  through  all 
the  movements  of  such  a  complicated  game.  Mr  Cartwright 
was  a  clergyman,  forty  years  old,  and  had  never  given  his 
attention  to  the  subject  of  machinery.  This  subject,  how- 
ever, was  so  strongly  on  his  mind,  that  some  time  afterwards 
he  resolved  to  make  the  attempt  to  invent  a  weaving  machine. 
He  had  not  at  that  time,  it  appears,  ever  seen  even  a  common 
loom.  But,  reasoning  upon  the  nature  of  the  processes  neces- 
sary to  be  gone  through,  to  cross  the  threads  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  a  piece  of  cloth,  he  hit  upon  the  plan  of  a  loom, 
and,  with  the  assistance  of  a  carpenter  and  blacksmith,  he 
made  one.  It  was  a  very  rude  machine.  "  The  warp,"  says 
Mr  Cartwright,  "  was  laid  perpendicularly ;  the  reed  fell  with 
a  force  of  at  least  half  a  hundred  weight,  and  the  springs 
which  threw  the  shuttle  were  strong  enough  to  throw  a  Con- 
greve  rocket."  Besides  this,  it  required  the  strength  of  two 
powerful  men  to  work  it,  and  that  at  a  slow  rate,  and  for  a 
short  time.  But  the  principle  was  there.  Mr  Cartwright  now 
went  and  examined  the  looms  of  common  form,  and  soon 
succeeded  in  constructing  one  very  nearly  resembling  the 
power  looms  which  are  now  in  use.  In  the  account  of  this 
interesting  invention  which  I  am  quoting,*  it  is  said  that 

*  Library  of  Entertaining  Knowledge,   Vol.  VIII.,   second   American 
odition. 


TO    WORKINGMEN.  313 

"  Dr  Cartwright's  children  still  remember  often  seeing  their 
father,  about  this  time,  walking  to  and  fro,  apparently  in  deep 
meditation,  and  occasionally  throwing  his  arms  from  side  to 
side ;  on  which  they  used  to  be  told  that  he  was  thinking  of 
weaving  and  throwing  the  shuttle."  Some  time  after  he  had 
brought  his  first  loom  to  perfection,  a  manufacturer,  who  had 
called  upon  him  to  see  it  at  work,  after  expressing  his  admi- 
ration at  the  ingenuity  displayed  in  it,  remarked  that,  won- 
derful as  Mr  Cartwright's  mechanical  skill  was,  there  was 
one  thing  that  would  effectually  baffle  him  ;  and  that  was  the 
weaving  of  patterns  in  checks,  or,  in  other  words,  the  com- 
bining in  the  same  web  of  a  pattern  or  fancy  figure  with  the 
crossing  colors  that  make  the  check.  Mr  Cartwright  made 
no  reply  to  this  observation  at  the  time ;  but  some  weeks 
after,  on  receiving  a  second  visit  from  the  same  person,  he 
had  the  pleasure  of  showing  him  a  piece  of  muslin,  of  the 
description  mentioned,  beautifully  woven  by  machinery. 
The  man  was  so  much  astonished  that  he  declared  that  some- 
thing more  than  human  agency  must  have  been  concerned  in 
the  fabric.* 

The  wonderful  results  of  the  sagacity  and  perseverance  of 
Fulton,  in  carrying  into  effect  the  conceptions  of  his  mind 
on  the  subject  of  steam  navigation,  still  more  nobly  illustrate 
the  creative  power  of  the  human  intellect ;  but  it  is  a  matter 
too  familiar  to  need  comment. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed,  from  the  instances  I 
have  chosen  to  show  the  amount  of  good  which  may  be  done 
by  the  exercise  of  the  mental  powers,  that  it  is  confined  to 
the  material  comforts  of  life  —  to  steamboats,  looms,  or  mar- 
chinery  for  spinning.  Far  from  it.  The  true  and  most 
peculiar  province  of  its  efficacy  is  the  moral  condition. 
Think  of  the  inestimable  good  conferred  on  all  succeeding 
generations  by  the  early  settlers  of  America,  who  first  estab- 
lished the  system  of  public  schools,  where  instruction  should 

*  The  power  loom  was  applied  to  the  weaving  of  cotton,  in  the  United 
States,  in  1813,  by  Messrs  Francis  C.  Lowell  and  Patrick  T.  Jackson, 
aided  by  Mr  Paul  Moody,  without  any  acquaintance  with  the  machinery 
applied  to  this  purpose  in  England,  except  by  general  description. 
VOL.  i.  40 


314         ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

be  furnished  gratis  to  all  the  children  in  the  community 
No  such  thing  was  before  known  in  the  world.  There  were 
schools  and  colleges  supported  by  funds  which  had  been 
bequeathed  by  charitable  individuals;  and,  in  consequence, 
most  of  the  common  schools  of  this  kind  in  Europe  were 
regarded  as  establishments  for  the  poor.  So  deep-rooted  is 
this  idea,  that,  when  I  have  been  applied  to  for  information 
as  to  our  public  schools,  from  those  parts  of  the  United  States 
where  no  such  system  exists,  I  have  frequently  found  it  hard 
to  obtain  credit,  when  I  have  declared  that  there  was  nothing 
disreputable,  in  the  public  opinion  here,  in  sending  children 
to  schools  supported  at  the  public  charge.  The  idea  of  free 
schools  for  the  whole  people,  when  it  first  crossed  the  minds 
of  our  forefathers,  was  entirely  original ;  but  how  much  of 
the  prosperity  and  happiness  of  their  children  and  posterity 
has  flowed  from  this  living  spring  of  public  intelligence  ! 
The  same  may  be  said  of  Sunday  schools,  which  have  proved 
a  blessing  of  inestimable  value  in  Europe  and  America,  and 
particularly  to  thousands  who  are  deprived  of  the  advantages 
of  other  institutions.  It  is  probable  that  instruction  is  now 
given,  in  the  Sunday  schools,  to  more  than  a  million  arid  a 
half  of  pupils,  by  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
teachers.  This  plan  was  the  happy  suggestion  of  an  humble 
individual, — a  printer,  —  who  contemplated,  at  first,  nothing 
but  the  education  of  the  destitute  and  friendless  children  in 
his  immediate  neighborhood.  After  laboring  in  this  noble 
Held  of  usefulness  for  twenty  years,  and  among  the  class  of 
population  most  exposed  to  the  temptations  to  crime,  he  had 
the  satisfaction  of  being  able  to  say,  that,  out  of  three  thou- 
sand scholars,  he  had  heard  of  but  one  who  had  been  sent  to 
jail  as  a  criminal.*  Who  would  not  be  ashamed  to  compare 


*  See  a  very  interesting  address,  at  the  celebration  of  the  Sunday  school 
jubilee,  or  the  fiftieth  year  from  the  institution  of  Sunday  schools  by  Rob- 
ert Raikes;  delivered  at  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  September  14,  1831, 
by  Thomas  Smith  Grimke.  I  find,  however,  the  following  statement  in  a 
public  print,  of  the  accuracy  of  which  I  have  no  means  of  judging :  — 

"  The  credit  of  originating  these  institutions  has  usually  been  given  to 
Mr  Raikes,  a  newspaper  proprietor  of  Gloucester,  who  died  some  years 


TO    WORKINGMEN.  315 

the  pure  and  happy  renown  of  the  man  who  had  extended, 
by  the  suggestion  of  this  simple  but  before  untried  plan  of 
education,  the  blessings  of  instruction  to  a  million  and  a  half 
of  his  fellow-creatures,  with  the  false  and  unmerited  glory 
which  has  been  awarded  to  conquerors,  whose  wars  have 
hurried  their  millions  of  victims  to  cruel  and  untimely 
death  ! 

This  topic  might  be  illustrated,  perhaps,  still  more  power- 
fully, by  depicting  the  evils  which  flow  from  ignorance. 
These  are  deplorable  enough  in  the  case  of  the  individual  ; 
although,  if  he  live  surrounded  by  an  intelligent  community, 
the  disastrous  consequences  are  limited.  But  the  general 
ignorance  of  large  numbers  and  entire  classes  of  men,  acting 
under  the  unchastened  stimulus  of  the  passions,  and  excited 
by  the  various  causes  of  discontent  which  occur  in  the  prog- 
ress of  human  affairs,  is  often  productive  of  scenes  which 
make  humanity  shudder.  I  know  not  that  I  could  produce  a 
more  pertinent  illustration  of  this  truth  than  may  be  found  in 
the  following  extract  from  a  foreign  journal.  It  relates  to  the 
outrages  committed  by  the  peasantry,  in  a  part  of  Hungary, 
in  consequence  of  the  ravages  of  the  cholera  in  that  region. 

"  The  suspicion  that  the  cholera  was  caused  by  poisoning  the  wells  was 
universal  among  the  peasantry  of  the  counties  of  Zips  and  Zemplin  ;  and 
every  one  was  fully  convinced  of  its  truth.  The  first  commotion  arose  in 
Kliicknow,  where,  it  is  said,  some  peasants  died  in  consequence  of  taking 
the  preservatives  ;  whether  by  an  immoderate  use  of  medicine,  or  whether 
they  thought  they  were  to  take  chlorate  of  lime  internally,  is  not  known. 
This  story,  with  a  sudden  and  violent  breaking  out  of  cholera  at  Kliicknow, 
led  the  peasants  to  a  notion  of  the  poisoning  of  the  wells,  which  spread  like 

ago.  It  now  appears,  however,  from  statements  and  documents  of  unques- 
tionable authenticity,  that  the  plan  of  the  first  school  of  this  description, 
which  was  established  in  Gloucester,  in  1780,  originated  with  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Stock,  head  master  of  the  cathedral  school  of  that  city.  Mr 
Stock,  who  was  in  narrow  circumstances,  communicated  the  details  of  his 
plan  to  Mr  Raikes,  when  the  latter  assisted  him  with  his  purse ;  and  having 
taken  a  very  active  and  zealous  part  in  promoting  the  establishment  of  Sun- 
day schools,  he  ultimately  obtained  all  the  merit  of  being  their  founder. 
Mr  Raikes,  who  is  undoubtedly  entitled  to  much  credit  for  his  benevolent 
exertions  in  the  cause  of  education,  lived  to  see  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  children  enrolled  in  these  schools." 


316         ADVANTAGE  OP  KNOWLEDGE 

lightning.  In  the  sequel,  upon  the  attack  of  the  estate  of  Count  Czaki,  a 
servant  of  the  chief  bailiff  was  on  the  point  of  being  murdered,  when,  to 
save  his  life,  he  offered  to  disclose  something  important.  He  said  that  he 
received  from  his  master  two  pounds  of  poisonous  powder,  with  orders  to 
throw  it  into  the  wells ;  and,  with  an  axe  over  his  head,  took  oath  publicly 
in  the  church  to  the  truth  of  his  statement.  These  circumstances,  and  the 
fact  that  the  peasants,  when  they  forcibly  entered  the  houses  of  the  land- 
owners, every  where  found  chlorate  of  lime,  which  they  took  for  the  poison- 
ous powder,  confirmed  their  suspicions,  and  drove  the  people  to  madness. 
In  this  state  of  excitement,  they  committed  the  most  appalling  excesses. 
Thus,  for  instance,  when  a  detachment  of  thirty  soldiers,  headed  by  an 
ensign,  attempted  to  restore  order  in  Kliicknow,  the  peasants,  who  were  ten 
times  their  number,  fell  upon  them ;  the  soldiers  were  released,  but  the 
ensign  was  bound,  tortured  with  scissors  and  knives,  then  beheaded,  and  his 
head  fixed  on  a  pike,  as  a  trophy.  A  civil  officer,  in  company  with  the 
military,  was  drowned,  his  carriage  broken,  and  chlorate  of  lime  being  found 
in  the  carriage,  one  of  the  inmates  was  compelled  to  eat  it,  till  he  vomited 
blood,  which  again  confirmed  the  notion  of  poison.  On  the  attack  of  the 
house  of  the  lord,  at  Kliicknow,  the  countess  saved  her  life  by  piteous 
entreaties ;  but  the  chief  bailiff,  in  whose  house  chlorate  of  lime  was  un- 
happily found,  was  killed,  together  with  his  son,  a  little  daughter,  a  clerk,  a 
maid,  and  two  students,  who  boarded  with  him.  So  the  bands  went  from 
village  to  village ;  wherever  a  nobleman  or  a  physician  was  found,  death 
was  his  lot ;  and,  in  a  short  time,  it  was  known  that  the  high  constable  of 
the  county  of  Zemplin,  several  counts,  nobles,  and  parish  priests,  had  been 
murdered.  A  clergyman  was  hanged,  because  he  refused  to  take  an  oath  that 
he  had  thrown  poison  into  the  well ;  the  eyes  of  a  countess  were  put  out,  and 
innocent  children  cut  to  pieces.  Count  Czaki,  having  first  ascertained  that 
his  family  was  safe,  fled  from  his  estate,  at  the  risk  of  his  life ;  but  was 
stopped  at  Kirchtrauf,  pelted  with  stones,  and  wounded  all  over ;  torn  from 
his  horse,  and  only  saved  by  a  worthy  merchant,  who  fell  on  him,  crying, 
'  Now  I  have  got  the  rascal.'  He  drew  the  count  into  a  neighboring  con- 
vent, where  his  wounds  were  dressed,  and  a  refuge  afforded  him.  His 
secretary  was  struck  from  his  horse  with  an  axe,  but  saved  in  a  similar 
manner,  and,  in  the  evening,  conveyed  with  his  master  to  Leutschau.  But 
enough  of  these  horrible  scenes." 

It  is  by  no  means  my  purpose,  on  this  occasion,  to  attempt 
even  a  sketch  of  what  the  judicious  exercise  of  the  intel- 
lectual principle  has  enabled  men  to  do  for  the  improvement 
of  their  fellow-men.  Enough,  I  venture  to  hope,  has  been 
said,  to  put  all  who  favor  me  with  their  attention  upon  the 
reflection,  that  it  is  only  by  its  improvement  that  it  is  possible 
for  a  man  to  render  himself  useful  to  man  ;  and,  consequent- 
ly, that  it  is  in  this  way  alone  that  he  can  taste  the  highest 


TO    WORKINGMEN.  317 

and  purest  pleasure  which  our  natures  can  enjoy  —  that 
which  proceeds  from  the  consciousness  of  having  been  useful 
to  others. 

But  it  is  time  that  I  should  make  a  few  remarks  on  another 
subject,  which  would  seem  appropriately  to  belong  to  this 
occasion. 

An  idea,  I  fear,  prevails,  that  truths,  such  as  I  have  now 
attempted  to  illustrate,  are  obvious  enough  in  themselves,  but 
that  they  apply  only  to  men  of  literary  education,  to  profes- 
sional characters,  and  persons  of  fortune  and  leisure  ;  and  that 
it  is  out  of  the  power  of  the  other  classes  of  society,  and 
those  who  pass  most  of  their  time  in  manual  labor  and  me- 
chanical industry,  to  engage  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  with 
any  hope  of  being  useful  to  themselves  and  others. 

This  I  believe  to  be  a  great  error.  I  trust  we  may  regard 
the  meeting  of  this  numerous  audience  as  a  satisfactory  proof 
that  you  consider  it  an  error,  and  that  you  are  persuaded  that 
it  is  in  your  power  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  and  the  benefits 
which  flow  from  the  pursuit  of  useful  knowledge. 

What  is  it  that  we  wish  to  improve  ?  The  mind.  Is  this 
a  thing  monopolized  by  any  class  of  society  ?  God  forbid :  it 
is  the  heritage  with  which  he  has  endowed  all  the  children 
of  the  great  family  of  man.  Is  it  a  treasure  belonging  to  the 
wealthy  ?  It  is  talent  bestowed  alike  on  rich  and  poor,  high 
and  low.  But  this  is  not  all ;  mind  is,  in  all  men,  and  in 
every  man,  the  same  active,  living,  and  creative  principle  ;  it 
is  the  man  himself.  One  of  the  renowned  philosophers  of 
heathen  antiquity  beautifully  said  of  the  intellectual  facul- 
ties, "  I  call  them  not  mine,  but  we."  It  is  these  which  make 
the  man,  which  are  the  man.  I  do  not  say  that  opportuni- 
ties —  wealth,  leisure,  and  great  advantages  for  education  — 
are  nothing  ;  but  I  dc  say  they  are  much  less  than  is  common- 
ly supposed  ;  I  do  say,  as  a  general  rule,  that  the  amount  of 
useful  knowledge  which  men  acquire,  and  the  good  they  do 
with  it,  are  by  no  means  in  direct  proportion  to  the  degrees  to 
which  they  have  enjoyed  what  are  commonly  called  the 
great  advantages  of  life.  Wisdom  does  sometimes,  but  not 
most  commonly,  feed  her  children  with  a  silver  spoon.  I 


318         ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

believe  it  is  perfectly  correct  to  say  that  a  small  proportion 
only  of  those  who  have  been  most  distinguished  for  the 
improvement  of  their  minds  have  enjoyed  the  best  advantages 
for  education.  I  do  not  mean  to  detract  in  the  least  from  the 
usefulness  of  the  various  seminaries  for  learning  which  public 
and  private  liberality  has  founded  in  our  country.  They 
serve  as  places  where  a  large  number  of  persons  are  prepared 
for  their  employment  in  the  various  occupations  which  the 
public  service  requires.  But,  I  repeat  it,  of  the  great  bene- 
factors of  our  race,  —  the  men  who,  by  wonderful  inven- 
tions, remarkable  discoveries,  and  extraordinary  improve- 
ments, have  conferred  the  most  eminent  service  on  their 
fellow-men,  and  gained  the  highest  names  in  history,  —  by 
far  the  greater  part  have  been  men  of  humble  origin,  narrow 
fortunes,  small  advantages,  and  self-taught. 

And  this  springs  from  the  nature  of  the  mind  of  man, 
which  is  not  like  a  vessel,  to  be  filled  up  from  without  ;  into 
which  you  may  pour  a  little  or  pour  much,  and  then  measure, 
as  with  a  gauge,  the  degrees  of  knowledge  imparted.  The 
knowledge  that  can  be  so  imparted  is  the  least  valuable  kind 
of  knowledge  ;  and  the  man  who  has  nothing  but  this  may 
be  very  learned,  but  cannot  be  very  wise.  We  do  not  invite 
you  to  these  lectures,  as  if  their  object  would  be  attained 
when  you  have  heard  the  weekly  address.  It  is  to  kindle  the 
understanding  to  the  consciousness  of  its  own  powers  ;  tc 
make  it  feel  within  itself  that  it  is  a  living,  spiritual  thing  ; 
to  feed  it,  in  order  that  it  may  itself  begin  to  act  and  operate, 
to  compare,  contrive,  invent,  improve,  and  perfect.  This  is 
our  object ;  an  object  as  much  within  the  reach  of  every  man 
who  hears  me,  as  if  he  had  taken  a  degree  in  the  best  college 
in  Christendom. 

In  this  great  respect,  the  most  important  that  touches  hu- 
man condition,  we  are  all  equal.  It  is  not  more  true  that  all 
men  possess  the  same  natural  senses  and  organs,  than  that 
their  minds  are  endowed  with  the  same  capacities  for  improve- 
ment, though  not,  perhaps,  all  in  the  same  degree.  The  con- 
dition in  which  they  are  placed  is  certainly  not  a  matter  of 
entire  indifference.  The  child  of  a  savage,  born  in  the  bosom 


TO    WOKKINGMEN.  319 

of  a  barbarous  tribe,  is  of  course  shut  out  from  all  chance  of 
sharing  the  improvements  of  civilized  communities.  So,  in 
a  community  like  our  own,  an  infant  condemned  by  adverse 
circumstances  to  a  life  of  common  street  beggary,  must  be 
considered  as  wholly  out  of  the  reach  of  all  improving  influ- 
ences. But  Shakspeare,  whose  productions  have  been  the 
wonder  and  delight  of  all  who  speak  the  English  language, 
for  two  hundred  years,  was  a  runaway  youth,  the  son  of  a 
wool-comber,  who  obtained  his  living  in  London  by  holding 
horses  at  the  door  of  the  theatre,  for  those  who  went  to  the 
play ;  and  Sir  Richard  Arkwright,  who  invented  the  machin- 
ery for  spinning  cotton,  of  which  I  have  already  spoken,  was 
the  youngest  of  thirteen  children  of  a  poor  peasant,  and  till 
he  was  thirty  years  of  age,  followed  the  business  of  a  travel- 
ling barber. 

As  men  bring  into  the  world  with  them  an  equal  intellectual 
endowment,  that  is,  minds  equally  susceptible  of  improve- 
ment, so,  in  a  community  like  this,  the  means  of  improvement 
are  much  more  equally  enjoyed  than  might  at  first  be  sup- 
posed. Whoever  has  learned  to  read,  possesses  the  keys  of 
knowledge,  and  can,  whenever  he  pleases,  not  only  unlock 
the  portals  of  her  temple,  but  penetrate  to  the  inmost  halls 
and  most  secret  cabinets.  A  few  dollars,  the  surplus  of  the 
earnings  of  the  humblest  industry,  are  sufficient  to  purchase 
the  use  of  books  which  contain  the  elements  of  the  whole 
circle  of  useful  knowledge. 

It  may  be  thought  that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  com- 
munity want  time  to  attend  to  the  cultivation  of  their  minds. 
But  it  is  only  necessary  to  make  the  experiment,  to  find  two 
things  ;  one,  how  much  useful  knowledge  can  be  acquired  in 
a  very  little  time ;  and  the  other,  how  much  time  can  be 
ppared  by  good  management,  out  of  the  busiest  day.  Gen- 
erally speaking,  our  duties  leave  us  time  enough,  if  our  pas- 
sions would  but  spare  us ;  our  labors  are  much  less  urgent  in 
their  calls  upon  us,  than  our  indolence  and  our  pleasures. 
There  are  very  few  pursuits  in  life  whose  duties  are  so  inces- 
sant, that  they  do  not  leave  a  little  time  every  day,  to  a  man 
whose  temperate  and  regular  habits  allow  him  the  comfort  of 


320         ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

a  clear  head  and  a  cheerful  temper,  in  the  intervals  of  occupa- 
tion ;  and  then  there  is  one  day  in  seven  which  is  redeemed 
to  us  by  our  blessed  religion  from  the  calls  of  life,  and  affords 
us  all  time  enough  for  the  improvement  of  our  rational  and 
immortal  natures. 

It  is  a  prevalent  mistake  to  suppose  that  any  class  of  men 
have  much  time  to  spend,  or  do  spend  much  time,  in  mere 
contemplation  and  study.  A  small  number  of  literary  men 
may  do  this ;  but  the  great  majority  of  professional  men  — 
lawyers,  doctors,  and  ministers,  men  in  public  station,  rich 
capitalists,  merchants ;  men,  in  short,  who  are  supposed  to 
possess  eminent  advantages  and  ample  leisure  to  cultivate 
their  minds — are  very  much  occupied  with  the  duties  of  life, 
and  constantly  and  actively  employed  in  pursuits  quite  uncon- 
genial with  the  cultivation  of  the  mind  and  the  attainment 
of  useful  knowledge.  Take  the  case  of  an  eminent  lawyer, 
in  full  practice.  He  passes  his  days  in  his  office,  giving  ad- 
vice to  clients,  often  about  the  most  uninteresting  and  paltry 
details  of  private  business,  or  in  arguing  over  the  same  kind 
of  business  in  court ;  and  when  it  comes  night,  and  he  gets 
home  tired  and  harassed,  instead  of  sitting  down  to  rest  or  to 
read,  he  has  to  study  out  another  perplexed  cause  for  the  next 
day  ;  or  go  before  referees ;  or  attend  a  political  meeting,  and 
make  a  speech ;  while  every  moment  which  can  be  regarded 
in  any  degree  as  leisure  time,  is  consumed  by  a.  burdensome 
correspondence.  Besides  this,  he  has  his  family  to  take  care 
of.  It  is  plain  that  he  has  no  more  leisure  for  the  free  and 
improving  cultivation  of  his  mind,  independent  of  his  imme- 
diate profession,  than  if  he  had  been  employed  the  same 
number  of  hours  in  mechanical  or  manual  labor.  One  of  the 
most  common  complaints  of  professional  men,  in  all  the  pro- 
fessions, is,  that  they  have  no  time  to  read ;  and  I  have  no 
doubt  there  are  many  such,  of  very  respectable  standing,  who 
do  not,  in  any  branch  of  knowledge  not  connected  with  their 
immediate  professions,  read  the  amount  of  an  octavo  volume 
in  the  course  of  a  season. 

There  is  also  a  time  of  leisure,  which  Providence,  in  this 
climate,  has  secured  to  almost  every  man,  who  has  any  thing 


TO    WORKINGMEN.  321 

which  ca.a  be  called  a  home ;  I  mean  our  long  winter  even- 
ings. This  season  seems  provided,  as  if  expressly  for  the 
purpose  of  furnishing  those  who  labor  with  ample  opportunity 
for  the  improvement  of  their  minds.  The  severity  of  the 
weather,  and  the  shortness  of  the  days,  necessarily  limit  the 
portion  of  time  which  is  devoted  to  industry  out  of  doors, 
and  there  is  little  to  tempt  us  abroad  in  search  of  amusement. 
Every  thing  seems  to  invite  us  to  employ  an  hour  or  two  of 
this  calm  and  quiet  season,  in  the  acquisition  of  useful  knowl- 
edge and  the  cultivation  of  the  mind.  The  noise  of  life  is 
hushed  ;  the  pavement  ceases  to  resound  with  the  din  of  laden 
wheels  and  the  tread  of  busy  men ;  the  glaring  sun  has  gone 
down,  and  the  moon  and  the  stars  are  left  to  watch,  in  the 
heavens,  over  the  slumbers  of  the  peaceful  creation.  The 
mind  of  man  should  keep  its  vigils  with  them  ;  and  while  his 
body  is  reposing  from  the  labors  of  the  day,  and  his  feelings 
are  at  rest  from  its  excitements,  he  should  seek,  in  some 
amusing  and  instructive  page,  substantial  food  for  the  gener- 
ous appetite  for  knowledge. 

If  we  needed  any  encouragement  to  make  these  efforts  to 
improve  our  minds,  we  might  find  it  in  every  page  of  our 
country's  history.  Nowhere  do  we  meet  with  examples  more 
numerous  and  more  brilliant,  of  men  who  have  risen  above 
poverty,  and  obscurity,  and  every  disadvantage,  to  usefulness 
and  an  honorable  name.  Our  whole  vast  continent  was  added 
to  the  geography  of  the  world  by  the  persevering  efforts  of 
an  humble  mariner,  —  the  great  Columbus,  —  who,  by  the 
steady  pursuit  of  the  enlightened  conception  which  he  had 
formed  of  the  figure  of  the  earth,  before  any  navigator  had 
acted  upon  the  belief  that  it  was  round,  effected  the  great 
discovery.  He  was  the  son  of  a  Genoese  pilot,  —  a  pilot 
and  seaman  himself;  and  at  one  period  of  his  melancholy 
career,  was  reduced  to  beg  his  bread  at  the  doors  of  the  con- 
vents, in  Spain.  But  he  carried  within  himself,  and  beneath 
an  humble  exterior,  a  spirit  for  which  there  was  not  room  in 
Spain,  in  Europe,  nor  in  the  then  known  world. 

The  story  of  our  Franklin  cannot  be  repeated  too  often  — 
the  poor  Boston  boy;  the  son  of  an  humble  tradesman; 

VOL.  I.  41 


322         ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

brought  up  a  mechanic  himself;  a  stranger  at  colleges,  till 
they  showered  their  degrees  upon  him ;  who  rendered  his 
country  the  most  important  services,  in  establishing  her  inde- 
pendence ;  enlarged  the  bounds  of  philosophy  by  a  new  de- 
partment of  science ;  and  lived  to  be  pronounced  by  Lord 
Chatham,  in  the  British  House  of  Peers,  an  honor  to  Europe 
and  the  age  in  which  he  lived. 

Why  should  I  speak  of  Greene,  who  left  his  blacksmith's 
furnace  to  command  an  army  in  the  revolutionary  war  —  the 
chosen  friend  of  Washington,  and  next  to  him,  perhaps,  the 
military  leader  who  stood  highest  in  the  confidence  of  his 
country  ? 

West,  the  famous  painter,  was  the  son  of  a  Quaker  in 
Pennsylvania.  He  was  too  poor,  at  the  beginning  of  his 
career,  to  purchase  canvas  and  colors ;  and  he  rose  eventually 
to  be  the  President  of  the  Royal  Academy  at  London.  Count 
Rumford  was  the  son  of  a  farmer  at  Woburn,  Massachusetts  ; 
he  never  had  the  advantage  of  a  college  education,  but  used 
to  walk  down  to  Cambridge,  to  hear  the  lectures  on  natural 
philosophy.  He  became  one  of  the  most  eminent  philoso- 
phers in  Europe  ;  founded  the  Royal  Institution  in  London, 
and  had  the  merit  of  bringing  forward  Sir  Humphry  Davy, 
as  the  lecturer  on  chemistry,  in  that  establishment.  Robert 
Fulton  was  a  portrait  painter  in  Pennsylvania,  without  friends 
or  fortune.  By  his  successful  labors  in  perfecting  steam  nav- 
igation, he  has  made  himself  one  of  the  greatest  benefactors 
of  man.  Whitney,  the  son  of  a  Massachusetts  farmer,  was  a 
machinist.  His  cotton-gin,  according  to  Judge  Johnson,  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  has  trebled  the  value 
of  all  the  cotton  lands  at  the  south,  and  has  had  an  incal- 
culable influence  on  the  agricultural  and  mechanical  industry 
of  the  world.  Whittemore,  of  West  Cambridge,  the  person 
who  invented  the  machinery  for  the  manufacture  of  cards, 
possessed  no  other  means  of  improvement  than  those  which 
are  within  the  reach  of  every  temperate  and  industrious  man. 
Several  in  this  audience  were  probably  acquainted  with  the 
modest  and  sterling  merit  of  the  late  Paul  Moody.  To  the 
efforts  of  his  self-taught  mind,  the  early  prosperity  of  the 


TO    WORKINGMEN.  323 

great  manufacturing  establishments  at  Waltham  and  Lowell 
is,  in  no  small  degree,  owing.  I  believe  I  may  say,  with 
truth,  that  not  one  of  these  individuals  enjoyed,  at  the  outset, 
opportunities  for  acquiring  useful  knowledge  superior  to  those 
in  the  reach  of  every  one  who  hears  me. 

These  are  all  departed  ;  but  we  have  living  among  us  illus- 
trious instances  of  men,  who,  without  early  advantages,  but 
by  the  resolute  improvement  of  the  few  opportunities  thrown 
in  their  way,  have  rendered  themselves,  in  like  manner,  useful 
to  their  fellow-men  ;  the  objects  of  admiration  to  those  who 
witness  their  attainments,  and  of  gratitude  to  those  who  reap 
the  fruit  of  their  labors. 

On  a  late  visit  to  New  Haven,  I  saw  exhibited  a  most 
pleasing  work  of  art  —  the  meeting  of  Jephthah  and  his 
daughter,  as  described  in  the  Bible.  This  pathetic  scene  is 
beautifully  represented  in  two  marble  figures  of  exquisite 
taste  and  highly  finished  execution.  They  are  the  work  of  a 
self-taught  artist,  Mr  Augur,  of  New  Haven,  who  began  life,  I 
have  been  informed,  as  a  retailer  of  liquors.  This  business  he 
was  obliged  to  give  up,  under  a  heavy  load  of  debt.  He  then 
turned  his  attention  to  carving  in  wood  ;  and,  by  his  skill  arid 
thrift  in  that  pursuit,  succeeded  in  paying  off  the  debts  of 
his  former  establishment,  to  the  amount  of  several  thousand 
dollars.  Thus  honorably  placed  at  liberty,  he  has  since  de- 
voted himself  to  the  profession  of  a  sculptor ;  and,  without 
education,  without  funds,  without  instruction,  he  has  risen  at 
once  to  extraordinary  proficiency  in  this  difficult  and  beautiful 
art,  and  bids  fair  to  enroll  his  name  among  the  distinguished 
sculptors  of  the  day.* 

I  scarce  know  if  I  may  venture  to  adduce  an  instance, 
nearer  home,  of  the  most  praiseworthy  and  successful  culti- 
vation of  useful  knowledge  on  the  part  of  an  individual, 
without  education,  busily  employed  in  mechanical  industry. 
I  have  the  pleasure  to  be  acquainted,  in  one  of  the  neighbor- 
ing towns,  with  a  person  who  was  brought  up  to  the  trade  of 


*  See  New  England  Magazine,  Vol.  I.  p.  41,'t 


324         ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

a  leather  dresser,  and  has  all  his  life  worked,  and  still  works, 
at  this  business.*  He  has  devoted  his  leisure  hours,  and  a 
portion  of  his  honorable  earnings,  to  the  cultivation  of  useful 
and  elegant  learning.  Under  the  same  roof  which  covers  his 
workshop,  he  has  the  most  excellent  library  of  English  books, 
for  its  size-,  with  which  I  am  acquainted.  The  books  have 
been  selected  with  a  good  judgment,  which  would  do  credit 
to  the  most  accomplished  scholar,  and  have  been  imported 
from  England  by  himself.  What  is  more  important  than 
having  the  books,  their  proprietor  is  well  acquainted  with 
their  contents.  Among  them  are  several  volumes  of  the  most 
costly  and  magnificent  engravings.  Connected  with  his  library 
is  an  exceedingly  interesting  series  of  paintings,  in  water 
colors,  —  copies  of  the  principal  works  of  the  ancient  masters 
in  England,  —  which  a  fortunate  accident  placed  in  his  pos- 
session, and  several  valuable  pictures,  purchased  by  himself. 
The  whole  forms  a  treasure  of  taste  and  knowledge,  not  sur- 
passed, if  equalled,  by  any  thing  of  its  kind  in  the  country. 

I  should  leave  this  part  of  my  address  too  unjustly  defec- 
tive, did  I  not  add  that  we  possess  within  our  own  city  an 
instance  of  merit,  as  eminent  as  it  is  unobtrusive,  in  the 
person  of  one  who  has  raised  himself  from  the  humblest 
walks  of  life  to  the  highest  scientific  reputation.  Little, 
perhaps,  is  it  known  to  the  intelligent  mariner,  who  resorts  to 
his  Practical  Navigator  for  the  calculations  with  which  he 
finds  his  longitude  in  mid-ocean,  that  many  of  them  are  the 
original  work  of  one  who  started  at  the  same  low  point  in 
life  with  himself.  Still  less  is  it  known  to  him  that  this  was 
but  the  commencement  of  a  series  of  scientific  productions, 
which  have  placed  their  author  upon  an  equality  with  the 
most  distinguished  philosophers  of  Europe,  and  inscribed  the 
name  of  Bowditch,  with  those  of  Newton  and  La  Place,  upon 
that  list  of  great  minds,  to  which  scarcely  one  is  added  in  a 
century.f 

But  why  should  I  dwell  on  particular  instances  ?     Our 

*  Mr  Thomas  Dowse,  of  Cambridgeport. 

t  Nathaniel  Bowditch,  LL.  D.,  died  in  Boston,  March  16,  1838,  aged 
sixty-five. 


TO    WORKINGMEN.  326 

whole  country  is  a  great  and  speaking  illustration  of  what 
may  be  done  by  native  force  of  mind,  uneducated,  without 
advantages,  but  starting  up,  under  strong  excitement,  into 
new  and  successful  action.  The  statesmen  who  conducted 
the  revolution  to  its  honorable  issue  were  called,  without 
experience,  to  the  head  of  affairs.  The  generals  who  com- 
manded our  armies  were  most  of  them  taken,  like  Cincin- 
natus,  from  the  plough  ;  and  the  forces  which  they  led  were 
gathered  from  the  firesides  of  an  orderly  and  peaceful  popula- 
tion. They  were  arrayed  against  all  the  experience,  talent, 
and  resource  of  the  elder  world,  and  came  off  victorious. 
They  have  handed  down  to  us  a  country,  a  constitution,  and 
a  national  career,  affording  boundless  scope  to  every  citizen, 
and  calling  every  individual  to  do  for  himself  what  our 
fathers  unitedly  did  for  us  all.  What  man  can  start  in  life, 
with  so  few  advantages  as  those  with  which  our  country 
started,  in  the  race  of  independence  ?  Over  whose  private 
prospects  can  there  hang  a  cloud  as  dark  as  that  which  brood- 
ed over  the  cause  of  America  ?  Who  can  have  less  to  en- 
courage, and  more  to  terrify  and  dishearten  him.  than  the 
sages  and  chieftains  of  the  revolution  ?  Let  us,  then,  en- 
deavor to  follow  in  their  steps  ;  and  each,  according  to  his 
means  and  ability,  try  to  imitate  their  glorious  example  ; 
despising  difficulties,  grasping  at  opportunities,  and  steadily 
pursuing  some  honest  and  manly  aim.  We  shall  soon  find 
that  the  obstacles  which  oppose  our  progress  sink  into  the 
dust  before  a  firm  and  resolute  step,  and  that  the  pleasures 
and  benefits  of  knowledge  are  within  the  reach  of  all  who 
seek  it. 

There  are  a  few  considerations  which  I  beg  leave  more 
particularly  to  address  to  the  younger  part  of  the  audience, 
and  which  seem  to  call  on  them  peculiarly,  with  a  loud  voice, 
to  exert  themselves,  according  to  their  opportunities,  to  store 
their  minds  with  useful  knowledge. 

The  world  is  advanced  to  a  high  point  of  attainment  in 
science  and  art.  The  progress  of  invention  and  improve- 
ment has  been,  especially  of  late  years,  prodigiously  rapid ; 


326         ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

and  now,  whether  we  regard  the  science  of  nature  or  of  art, 
of  mind  or  of  morals,  of  contemplation  or  of  practice,  it 
must  be  confessed  that  we  live  in  a  wonderfully  improved 
period. 

Where  is  all  this  knowledge  ?  Where  does  it  dwell  ?  In 
the  minds  of  the  present  generation  of  men.  It  is,  indeed, 
recorded  in  books,  or  embodied  in  the  various  works  and 
structures  of  man.  But  these  are  only  the  manifestations  of 
knowledge.  The  books  are  nothing,  till  they  are  read  and 
understood ;  and  then  they  are  only  a  sort  of  short-hand,  an 
outline,  which  the  mind  fills  up.  The  thing  itself,  the 
science,  the  art,  the  skill,  are  in  the  minds  of  living  men,  — 
of  that  generation  which  is  now  upon  the  stage. 

That  generation  will  die  and  pass  away.  This  hour,  which 
we  have  spent  together,  has  been  the  last  hour  to  many  thou- 
sands throughout  the  world.  About  three  thousand  of  our 
race  have  died  since  I  began  my  lecture.  Among  them,  of 
course,  is  a  fair  proportion  of  all  the  learned  and  the  wise  in  all 
the  nations.  In  thirty  years,  all  now  in  active  life  will  be 
gone  or  retired  from  the  scene,  and  a  new  generation  will 
have  succeeded. 

This  mighty  process  does  not  take  place  at  once,  either 
throughout  the  world  or  in  any  part  of  it ;  but  it  is  constantly 
going  on,  —  silently,  effectually,  inevitably ;  and  all  the 
knowledge,  art,  and  refinement,  now  in  existence,  must  be 
either  acquired  by  those  who  are  coming  on  the  stage,  or 
perish  with  those  who  are  going  off,  and  be  lost  forever. 
There  is  no  way  by  which  knowledge  can  be  handed  down, 
but  by  being  learned  over  again ;  and  of  all  the  science,  art, 
and  skill  in  the  world,  so  much  only  will  survive,  when  those 
who  possess  it  are  gone,  as  shall  be  acquired  by  the  succeed- 
ing generation. 

The  rising  generation  is  now  called  upon  to  take  up  this 
mighty  weight ;  to  carry  it  along  a  little  way ;  and  then 
hand  it  over,  in  turn,  to  their  successors. 

The  minds  which,  in  their  maturity,  are  to  be  the  deposi- 
tories of  all  this  knowledge,  are  coming  into  existence,  every 


TO    WOEKINGMEN.  327 

day  and  every  hour,  in  every  rank  and  station  of  life ;  all 
equally  endowed  with  faculties ;  all,  at  the  commencement, 
equally  destitute  of  ideas  ;  all  starting  with  the  ignorance 
and  helplessness  of  nature ;  all  invited  to  run  the  noble  race 
of  improvement.  In  the  cradle  there  is  as  little  distinction 
of  persons  as  in  the  grave. 

The  great  lesson  which  I  would  teach  you  is,  that  it 
depends,  mainly,  on  each  individual,  what  part  he  will  bear 
in  the  accomplishment  of  this  great  work.  It  is  to  be  done 
by  somebody.  In  a  quiet  order  of  things,  the  stock  of  useful 
knowledge  is  not  only  preserved,  but  augmented ;  and  each 
generation  improves  on  that  which  went  before.  It  is  true 
there  have  been  periods  in  the  history  of  the  world  when 
tyranny  at  home,  or  invasion  from  abroad,  has  so  blighted 
and  blasted  the  condition  of  society,  that  knowledge  has 
perished  with  one  generation  faster  than  it  could  be  learned 
by  another ;  and  whole  nations  have  sunk  from  a  condition 
of  improvement  to  one  of  ignorance  and  barbarity,  some- 
times in  a  very  few  years.  But  no  such  dreadful  catastrophe 
is  now  to  be  feared.  Those  who  come  after  us  will  not  only 
equal,  but  surpass  their  predecessors.  The  existing  arts  will 
be  improved,  science  will  be  carried  to  new  heights,  and  the 
great  heritage  of  useful  knowledge  will  go  down  unimpaired 
and  augmented. 

But  it  is  all  to  be  shared  out  anew  ;  and  it  is  for  each  man 
to  say,  what  part  he  will  gain  in  the  glorious  patrimony. 

When  the  rich  man  is  called  from  the  possession  of  his 
treasures,  he  divides  them,  as  he  will,  among  his  children  and 
heirs.  But  an  equal  Providence  deals  not  so  with  the  living 
treasures  of  the  mind.  There  are  children  just  growing  up 
in  the  bosom  of  obscurity,  in  town  and  in  country,  who  have 
inherited  nothing  but  poverty  and  health,  who  will,  in  a  few 
years,  be  striving  in  generous  contention  with  the  great  intel- 
lects of  the  land.  Our  system  of  free  schools  has  opened  a 
straight  way  from  the  threshold  of  every  abode,  however 
humble,  in  the  village  or  in  the  city,  to  the  high  places  of 
usefulness,  influence,  and  honor.  And  it  is  left  for  each,  by 


328         ADVANTAGE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

the  cultivation  of  every  talent ;  by  watching,  with  an  eagle's 
eye,  for  every  chance  of  improvement ;  by  bounding  forward, 
like  a  greyhound,  at  the  most  distant  glimpse  of  honorable 
opportunity ;  by  redeeming  time,  defying  temptation,  and 
scorning  sensual  pleasure ;  to  make  himself  useful,  honored, 
and  happy. 


COLONIZATION   AND    CIVILIZATION    OF    AFRICA.* 


AT  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Colonization  Society,  on  the 
IrJth  of  January,  1832,  in  the  hall  of  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives, at  Washington,  Mr  Mercer,  of  Virginia,  being  in 
the  chair,  Mr  Edward  Everett  offered  the  following  resolu- 
tion :  — 

Resolved,  That  the  colonization  of  the  coast  of  Africa  is  the  most  effi- 
cient mode  of  suppressing  the  slave  trade,  and  of  civilizing  the  African 
continent. 

After  submitting  the  foregoing  resolution,  Mr  Everett  ad- 
dressed the  chair  as  follows :  — 

MR  CHAIRMAN: 

In  obtruding  myself  for  a  short  time  upon  your  notice  this 
evening,  I  perform,  in  some  sense,  an  official  duty.  The 
legislature  of  the  state  which  I  have  the  honor  in  part  to 
represent  in  Congress,  adopted,  at  its  session  last  winter,  a  res- 
olution requesting  its  senators  and  representatives  to  lend 
their  efforts  in  cooperation  with  the  American  Colonization 
Society.  This  instruction  of  course  referred  to  official  exer- 
tions on  this  floor,  in  another  capacity.  But  I  have  regarded 
it  also  as  a  motive  of  an  imperative  nature,  in  reference  to 
the  objects  of  this  meeting,  by  which  it  is  proposed  to  con- 
centrate and  apply  the  force,  of  public  opinion,  in  furtherance 
of  the  same  great  design. 

*  Speech  before  the  American  Colonization  Society. 
VOL.  i.  42 

(329) 


330  COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA. 

In  the  part  of  the  country  in  which  I  live,  the  rresence  of 
a  colored  population,  coexisting  with  the  whites,  is  not  felt 
as  an  evil.  They  are  few  in  proportion  to  the  rest  of  the 
community.  They  contain  among  their  numbers  many  re- 
spectable and  useful  persons.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  true,  as 
a  class,  they  are  depressed  to  a  low  point  in  the  social  scale. 
A  single  fact  will  illustrate  this  remark.  They  form,  in  Mas- 
sachusetts, about  one  seventy-fifth  part  of  the  population ; 
but  one  sixth  of  the  convicts  in  our  prisons  are  of  this  class. 
Allowing  for  some  exaggeration  in  this  statement,  it  is  still  a 
painful  disproportion.  What  do  I  infer  from  it  ?  Nothing, 
surely,  as  to  any  superior  proneness  of  the  colored  population, 
as  such,  to  crime.  But  I  think  it  proves  that  as  a  class  they 
are  ignorant  and  needy  ;  ignorance  and  want  being  the  parents 
of  crime.  Among  the  whites,  I  have  no  doubt  that,  of  that 
portion  who  are  born  to  hopeless  want  and  hopeless  ignorance, 
—  an  inheritance  of  poverty,  temptation,  and  absence  of  moral 
restraint,  —  an  equal  proportion  become  the  subjects  of  our 
penal  laws. 

But  though  this  population  is  not  felt  as  an  evil  in  New 
England,  we  are  able  to  enter  into  those  considerations  which 
have  led  the  venerable  Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States,  in 
the  letter  just  read  to  us,  to  speak  of  it  as  an  evil  of  momen- 
tous character  to  the  peace  and  welfare  of  the  Union.  That 
evil,  however,  we  of  the  north  have  been  for  the  most  part 
willing  to  leave  to  those  whom  it  more  immediately  concerns  ; 
some  of  whom,  I  trust,  speaking  under  the  lights  of  observa- 
tion and  experience,  will  favor  this  meeting  with  their  views 
on  this  very  important  subject.  There  are,  however,  aspects 
of  the  influence  and  operations  of  this  society  universally 
interesting  to  the  philanthropist  and  friend  of  humanity; 
prospects  of  discharging  a  moral  duty  of  the  most  imperative 
character,  and  of  achieving  a  work  of  great,  comprehensive, 
and  ever-during  benevolence.  In  the  resolution  which  I 
have  had  the  honor  to  submit,  I  have  alluded  to  these  views 
of  the  operations  and  effects  of  the  society. 

It  is  now  somewhat  more  than  half  a  century  since  the 


COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA.  331 

abolition  of  the  slave  trade  began  to  be  seriously  agitated.* 
This  work,  I  believe,  sir,  was  begun  by  your  native  state 
if  I  mistake  not,  Virginia  led  the  way,  before  the  American 
revolution,  in  prohibiting  the  African  slave  trade.  The  acts 
of  her  colonial  legislature  to  that  effect  were  disallowed  by 
the  British  crown  —  a  grievance  set  forth  in  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  among  the  causes  of  the  revolution.  In 
1776,  Mr  David  Hartley  laid  upon  the  table  of  the  House  of 
Commons  some  of  the  fetters  used  in  confining  the  unhappy 
victims  of  this  traffic  on  board  the  slave  ships,  and  moved  a 
resolution,  that  it  was  contrary  to  the  laws  of  God  and  the 
rights  of  man.  The  public  sensibility  had  been  strongly 
excited,  about  this  time,  by  the  atrocious  circumstance  that 
one  hundred  and  thirty-two  living  slaves  had  been  thrown 
overboard  from  a  vessel  engaged  in  the  trade.  In  1787,  Mr 
Wilberforce  made  his  first  motion  in  the  House  of  Commons 
on  this  subject.  The  same  year,  the  constitution  of  the 
United  States  fixed  the  period  for  its  abolition  in  the  United 
States,  which  accordingly  took  place,  by  a  law  passed  at  the 
time  prescribed —  1808.  In  1788,  the  slave  trade  was  abol- 
ished in  Massachusetts.  In  1792,  Mr  Pitt  made  his  great 
speech  in  Parliament,  which  continued  from  that  time  for 
fifteen  years  a  grand  arena,  where  this  question  was  strenu- 
ously contested  by  the  ablest  statesmen  of  the  day.  Having 
carried  the  point  at  home,  the  British  government,  with 
praiseworthy  zeal,  directed  its  attention  to  procure  from  the 
continental  powers  an  abolition  of  this  guilty  traffic.  At  the 
congress  of  Vienna,  in  1815,  the  sovereigns  there  present, 
and  the  states  represented,  pledged  themselves  to  its  suppres- 
sion ;  and  at  length,  after  a  tedious  succession  of  negotiations 
and  conventions,  not  very  creditable  to  some  of  the  high 
parties  concerned,  on  the  twenty-third  of  March,  1830,  the 
prosecution  of  the  slave  trade  ceased  to  be  lawful  for  the 
citizens  or  subjects  of  any  Christian  power  in  Europe  or 
America. 

*  See,  on  this  subject,  the  very  interesting  tract,  Judge  Tucker's  Queries 
respecting  Slavery,  with  Dr  Belknap's  Answers,  Collections  of  Mass.  Hist 
Soc.  Vol.  IV.  p.  191,  First  Series. 


332  COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA. 

And  now,  Mr  Chairman,  I  must  state  the  melancholy  fact, 
that,  notwithstanding  all  these  exertions,  and  the  success 
with  which  they  seemed  to  be  crowned,  less  has,  at  any 
period,  been  effected,  than  was  hoped  for  and  anticipated. 
Until  the  twenty-third  of  March,  1830,  the  Brazilians  were 
allowed  to  carry  on  the  trade  south  of  the  equator.  There 
was  but  little  difficulty  thrown  in  the  way  of  a  very  exten- 
sive prosecution  of  it.  Slave  ships  of  all  countries,  pursuing 
the  traffic  to  every  part  of  the  coast,  were  provided  with 
fabricated  papers,  to  show  that  they  were  carrying  on  the 
permitted  traffic,  south  of  the  equator.  Dr  Walsh,  in  his 
interesting  work  on  Brazil,  gives  a  very  affecting  account  of 
the  chase  of  a  slave  ship  by  the  British  frigate  in  which  he 
was  sailing  for  Europe.  After  a  keen  pursuit  of  three  hun- 
dred miles,  the  slave  ship  was  captured.  She  had  taken  in 
five  hundred  and  sixty-two  slaves  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  and 
had  been  out  seventeen  days,  in  which  time  fifty-five  had 
died !  The  wretched  crew,  over  five  hundred  in  number, 
were  liberated  from  their  horrid  confinement  between  decks, 
and  for  a  short  time  flattered  with  the  hope  of  liberty.  But 
on  examining  the  papers  of  the  commander  of  the  ship, 
although  there  was  the  strongest  reason  to  suspect  their  want 
of  genuineness,  there  was  nothing  to  prove  it ;  and  it  became 
necessary  for  the  British  officers  to  drive  these  unhappy  beings 
back  to  their  hold,  and  surrender  them  up  to  the  wretch  who 
was  dragging  them  from  their  native  country  into  perpetual 
slavery  in  Brazil. 

Although  the  traffic  is  now  denounced  and  declared  illegal 
or  piratical  by  every  Christian  government,  it  is  supposed  that 
it  is  still  very  extensively  carried  on.  The  regulations  of  the 
British  service  forbid  the  capture  of  vessels,  however  appar- 
ently they  are  fitted  out  for  the  pursuit  of  this  trade,  unless 
they  actually  have  slaves  on  board.  The  slave  ships  conse- 
quently hover  about  the  coast,  which  is  mostly  low,  sunken, 
and  indented  with  numerous  branching  rivers,  taking  in  their 
cargo  in  the  night,  escaping  by  one  arm  of  a  stream,  while 
another  is  blockaded  by  a  cruiser,  and  thus  elude  capture. 
In  addition  to  this,  the  governments  of  France  and  America 


COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA.  333 

have  not  yet  felt  themselves  authorized  to  admit  a  right  of 
search  by  foreign  cruisers.*  These  circumstances  united, 
together  with  the  enhanced  value  of  slaves,  occasioned  by 
the  obstacles  thrown  in  the  way  of  the  accustomed  pursuit  of 
the  slave  trade,  will,  it  is  to  be  feared,  for  some  time,  have  the 
effect  of  causing  it  to  be  conducted  with  greater  keenness, 
ferocity,  and  waste  of  life.  It  will  be  carried  on  in  swift- 
sailing  vessels ;  on  board  of  which  the  wretched  victims  of 
the  traffic  will  be  more  than  ever  crowded ;  and  barbarous 
expedients,  in  the  event  of  search,  will  be  resorted  to,  to 
escape  detection.  It  has  already  happened  that  slaves  have 
been  enclosed  in  casks  and  thrown  overboard  in  a  chase,  to 
be  picked  up  when  the  danger  of  capture  was  over,  f  The 
want  of  a  vigorous  government  and  of  an  enlightened  public 
sentiment  in  the  Havana,  the  general  growth  of  piracy,  and  the 
vicinity  of  Brazil  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  will,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
under  present  circumstances,  furnish  but  too  many  facilities 
for  carrying  on  this  wicked  commerce.  It  is  supposed  that 
nearly  one  hundred  thousand  human  beings  are  still  annually 
taken  by  violence  from  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  earned  into 
slavery. 

If  such  be  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  even  with  considera- 
ole  allowance  for  exaggeration,  it  is  plain  that  the  methods 

*  Since  the  foregoing  remarks  were  made,  it  has  been  stated  in  the  pa- 
cers that,  by  a  recent  convention  between  England  and  France,  the  French 
government  has  authorized  the  right  of  search  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  with 
a  view  to  the  suppression  of  the  slave  trade. 

t  Shortly  after  these  remarks  were  made,  the  following  account  appeared 
in  the  English  papers :  — 

"  The  Fair  Rosamond  and  the  Black  Joke,  tenders  to  the  Dryad  frigate, 
have  captured  three  slave  vessels,  which  had  originally  eleven  hundred 
slaves  on  board  ;  but  of  which  they  succeeded  in  taking  only  three  hundred 
and  six  to  Sierra  Leone.  It  appears  that  the  Fair  Rosamond  had  captured 
a  lugger  with  one  hundred  and  sixty  Africans,  and  shortly  after  saw  the 
Black  Joke  in  chase  of  two  other  luggers.  She  joined  in  the  pursuit;  but 
the  vessels  succeeded  in  getting  into  Bonny  River,  and  landed  six  hundred 
slaves  before  the  tenders  could  take  possession  of  them.  They  found  on 
board  only  two  hundred,  but  ascertained  that  the  rascals  in  command  of  the 
slavers  had  thrown  overboard  one  hundred  and  eighty  slaves,  manacled 
together,  of  whom  only  four  were  picked  up." 


334  COLONIZATION    OF    AFKICA. 

hitherto  pursued  for  the  destruction  of  the  slave  trade  —  pe- 
nal denunciation,  enforced  by  armed  cruisers  —  have  proved, 
in  a  high  degree,  ineffectual.  Nor  can  it  be  hoped,  that  it 
will  be  found  practicable  to  guard  the  coast  of  Africa  (an 
extent  all  round  of  eighty  degrees  of  latitude)  by  any  force 
competent  to  the  suppression  of  the  trade.  Another  mode, 
then,  must  be  adopted,  or  the  attainment  of  the  object  must 
be  abandoned  in  despair.  Such  another  mode  happily  pre- 
sents itself,  of  efficacy  already  proved  by  experience ;  and 
that  is,  the  establishment  of  colonies  on  the  African  coast. 
In  this  way,  a  cordon  is  drawn  along  that  continent,  which  the 
slave  trader  cannot  penetrate.  The  experience  already  had 
in  the  British  colony  of  Sierra  Leone,  and  in  our  own  Liberia, 
abundantly  authorizes  this  conclusion.  In  reference  to  Liberia, 
I  take  great  pleasure  in  quoting  an  honorable  testimony  from 
a  recent  British  publication,  entitled  to  additional  credit,  on 
the  score  of  impartiality,  from  the  source  from  which  it  pro- 
ceeds. After  an  exceedingly  favorable  account  of  the  colony, 
in  all  its  aspects,  the  writer  to  whom  I  allude  continues : 
"  Nothing  has  tended  more  to  suppress  the  slave  trade  in  this 
quarter,  than  the  constant  intercourse  and  communication  of 
the  natives  with  these  industrious  colonists.  The  American 
agent,  Mr  Ashmun,  took  every  opportunity  and  means  in  his 
power  to  extinguish  a  traffic  so  injurious,  in  every  way,  to 
the  fair  trader."  "  Wherever  the  influence  of  this  colony 
extends,  the  slave  trade  has  been  abandoned  by  the  natives, 
and  the  peaceful  pursuits  of  legitimate  commerce  established 
in  its  place."  * 

Wherever  a  civilized  jurisdiction  is  established  on  the  Af- 
rican coast,  the  slave  trade  is  destroyed,  not  merely  by  pre- 
venting and  prohibiting  the  approach  of  the  traders,  but  by 
instituting  a  lawful  and  lucrative  commerce  with  the  natives, 
and  inducing  them  to  seek  the  supply  of  their  wants,  in  the 
exchange  of  the  abundant  products  of  their  fertile  soil  for 

*  Essay  on  the  actual  state  of  the  slave  trade  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  in 
the  Amulet  for  1832,  said  to  be  "extracted  principally  from  the  journal  of  a 
gallant  and  distinguished  naval  officer,  who  passed  three  years  on  the  Afri- 
can coast,  from  which  he  has  just  returned." 


COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA.  335 

those  articles  of  foreign  product  and  manufacture,  which  are 
in  request  among  them. 

Not  only  is  this  the  most  effectual,  I  may  say  the  only 
effectual,  mode  of  suppressing  the  trade,  but  it  is  unfortu- 
nately true,  that  the  other  method  (the  pursuit  of  the  slave 
traders  by  armed  cruisers  in  the  seas  most  infested  by  them) 
is,  even  when  successful  in  its  operations,  accompanied  by 
some  of  the  worst  evils  of  the  trade,  in  its  undisturbed  pros- 
ecution. A  cruising  ship  of  war  perceives  a  suspicious  ves- 
sel at  a  distance,  and  gives  chase  to  her,  for  hours,  perhaps 
days.  It  is  evident,  that  in  the  crowded  condition  of  such 
vessels,  the  sufferings  of  the  wretched  beings  on  board  must 
be  greatly  heightened  by  the  neglect,  perhaps  the  cruelties, 
attendant  on  being  chased.  Some  of  the  slave  ships  are  pro- 
vided with  false  decks,  below  which  the  slaves  are  crowded, 
when  about  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  cruiser,  and  casks  and 
packages  are  piled  above,  to  give  the  semblance  of  an  ordi- 
nary trading  voyage.  Some  of  the  slave  ships  are  strongly 
armed,  and  an  action  often  takes  place  with  the  cruiser.  This 
must  add,  of  course,  immeasurably  to  the  sufferings  and  sac- 
rifice of  life  of  the  miserable  victims  crowded  between  decks. 
When  captured,  what  is  their  condition  ?  They  are  in  the 
mid-ocean,  perhaps.  It  is  known  to  all,  that  the  horrors  of 
the  middle  passage  form  one  of  the  most  frightful  features  of 
the  slave  trade.  When  a  slave  ship  is  captured,  that  horrid 
voyage  is  yet  to  be  performed,  and  with  scarce  any  allevia- 
tion of  its  sufferings.  The  slaves  still  remain,  of  necessity, 
crowded  to  suffocation,  on  a  scanty  allowance  of  food,  ex- 
posed to  all  the  causes  of  disease  and  death.  If  captured  by 
an  American  cruiser,  they  must  be  sent  across  the  Atlantic, 
to  be  adjudicated  in  the  United  States.  If  captured  by  the 
cruisers  of  the  other  powers,  they  must  be  sent  up  to  wind- 
ward, to  the  seat  of  the  mixed  commission  on  the  African 
coast  —  a  voyage  frequently  of  weeks,  sometimes  of  months, 
during  the  whole  of  which  they  are  suffering  an  amount  of 
misery,  and  dying  at  a  rate  of  mortality,  probably  without  a 
parallel  in  any  other  condition  of  human  nature.  It  would 
lead  me  too  greatly  into  detail,  to  trace  the  situation  of  the 


336  COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA. 

captured  Africans,  after  they  are  safely  landed  on  the  coast 
either  of  the  United  States  or  of  Africa.  As  to  the  former, 
your  memory,  sir,  can  furnish  you  with  facts  which  I  will 
not  grieve  this  audience  by  repeating.  But  this  I  will  say, 
that  the  situation  of  the  recaptured  African  is  too  often  one 
that  affords  but  little  cause  of  congratulation,  on  the  score  of 
humanity.  I  do  not  go  too  far  in  saying  (for  the  public  doc- 
uments of  this  government  bear  me  out  in  the  assertion)  that 
there  have  been  cases  of  recaptured  Africans,  brought  within 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  United  States,  who,  for  aught  they 
have  gained  by  their  liberation,  might  as  well  have  remained 
in  the  hands  of  the  slave  trader ! 

To  all  these  evils,  so  far  as  the  influence  of  the  civilized 
colonies  on  the  coast  of  Africa  extends,  they  furnish  a  com- 
plete remedy.  They  purify  from  the  contamination  of  the 
slave  trade  the  entire  extent  of  coast  within  their  jurisdic- 
tion. That  our  colony  has  borne  its  part  in  this  happy  work, 
is  manifest  from  the  reports  of  the  managers,  which  have  in- 
formed us,  that,  short  as  the  annals  of  the  colony  are,  they 
already  present  instances  of  native  tribes,  who,  harassed  and 
exhausted  by  this  all-destroying  traffic,  have  placed  them- 
selves under  the  American  colony  for  protection.  The  same 
is  true,  and,  of  course,  to  a  greater  extent,  of  the  more  pow- 
erful British  colony  at  Sierra  Leone. 

By  the  same  process,  by  which  the  colonization  of  the 
coast  tends  to  the  suppression  of  the  slave  trade,  it  promotes 
the  civilization  of  the  interior  of  the  continent  of  Africa. 
This  is  a  topic,  which,  as  it  seems  to  me,  has  not  received  its 
share  of  consideration.  Of  this  mighty  continent,  four  times 
as  large  as  Europe,  one  third  part,  at  least,  is  within  the 
direct  reach  of  influences  from  the  west  of  Europe  and  Amer- 
ica —  influences  which,  for  three  hundred  years,  have  been 
employed,  through  the  agency  of  the  slave  trade,  to  depress 
and  barbarize  it ;  to  chain  it  down  to  the  lowest  point  of 
social  degradation.  I  trust  these  influences  are  now  to  be 
employed  in  repairing  the  wrongs,  in  healing  the  wounds,  in 
gradually  improving  the  condition  of  Africa.  I  trust  that  a 
great  reaction  is  at  hand.  Can  it  be  believed  that  this  mighty 


COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA.  337 

region,  most  of  it  overflowing  with  tropical  abundance,  was 
created  and  destined  for  eternal  barbarity  ?  Is  it  possible,  in 
the  present  state  of  the  public  sentiment  of  the  world,  —  with 
the  present  rapid  diffusion  of  knowledge,  —  with  the  present 
reduction  of  antiquated  errors  to  .  the  test  of  reason,  —  that 
such  a  quarter  of  the  world  will  be  permitted  to  derive  noth- 
ing but  barbarism  from  intercourse  with  the  countries  which 
stand  at  the  head  of  civilization  ?  It  cannot  be. 

I  know  it  is  said  that  it  is  impossible  to  civilize  Africa. 
Why  ?  Why  is  it  impossible  to  civilize  man  in  one  part  of 
the  earth  more  than  in  another?  Consult  history.  Was 
Italy  —  was  Greece  —  the  cradle  of  civilization  ?  No.  As 
far  back  as  the  lights  of  tradition  reach,  Africa  was  the  cra- 
dle of  science,  while  Syria,  and  Greece,  and  Italy  were  yet 
covered  with  darkness.  As  far  back  as  we  can  trace  the  first 
rudiments  of  improvement,  they  came  from  the  very  head 
waters  of  the  Nile,  far  in  the  interior  of  Africa ;  and  there 
are  yet  to  be  found,  in  shapeless  ruins,  the  monuments  of 
this  primeval  civilization.  To  come  down  to  a  much  later 
period,  while  the  west  and  north  of  Europe  were  yet 
barbarous,  the  Mediterranean  coast  of  Africa  was  filled  with 
cities,  academies,  museums,  churches,  and  a  highly  civilized 
population.  What  has  raised  the  Gaul,  the  Belgium,  the 
Germany,  the  Scandinavia,  the  Britain,  of  ancient  geography, 
to  their  present  improved  and  improving  condition  ?  Africa 
is  not  now  sunk  lower  than  most  of  those  countries  were 
eighteen  centuries  ago ;  and  the  engines  of  social  influence 
are  increased  a  thousand  fold  in  numbers  and  efficacy.  It  is 
not  eighteen  hundred  years  since  Scotland,  whose  metropo- 
lis has  been  called  the  Athens  of  modern  Europe,  the  country 
of  Hume,  of  Smith,  of  Robertson,  of  Blair,  of  Stewart,  of 
Brown,  of  Jeffrey,  of  Chalmers,  of  Scott,  of  Brougham,  was 
a  wilderness,  infested  by  painted  savages.  It  is  not  a  thou- 
sand years  since  the  north  of  Germany,  now  filled  with 
beautiful  cities,  learned  universities,  and  the  best  educated 
population  in  the  world,  was  a  dreary,  pathless  forest. 

Is  it  possible  that,  before  an  assembly  like  this,  —  an  as- 
sembly of  Americans,  —  it  can  be  necessary  to  argue  the 
VOL.  i.  43 


338  COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA. 

possibility  of  civilizing  Africa,  through  the  instrumentality  of 
a  colonial  establishment,  and  that  in  a  comparatively  short 
time  ?  It  is  but  about  ten  years  since  the  foundations  of  the 
colony  of  Liberia  were  laid  ;  and  every  one  acquainted  with 
the  early  history  of  New  England  knows  that  the  colony  at 
Liberia  has  made  much  greater  progress  than  was  made  by 
the  settlement  at  Plymouth  in  the  same  period.  More  than 
once  were  the  first  settlements  in  Virginia  in  a  position  vastly 
less  encouraging  than  that  of  the  American  colony  on  the  coast 
of  Africa ;  and  yet  from  these  feeble  beginnings  in  New  Eng- 
land and  Virginia,  what  has  not  been  brought  about  in  two 
hundred  years  ?  Two  hundred  years  ago,  and  the  continent 
of  North  America,  for  the  barbarism  of  its  native  population, 
and  its  remoteness  from  the  sources  of  improvement,  was  all 
that  Africa  is  now.  Impossible  to  civilize  Africa !  Sir,  the 
work  is  already,  in  no  small  part,  accomplished.  We  form 
our  ideas  of  Africa  too  much  from  the  wasted  and  degraded 
state  of  the  coast.  There  are  numerous  and  powerful  nations 
in  the  interior,  who  weave,  and  dye,  and  smelt,  and  forge, 
and  who,  above  all,  are  familiar  with  the  art  of  writing  —  the 
great  index  and  engine  of  civilization.  You  and  I,  sir,  have 
seen  a  native  African  (Abdulrahman)  carried  into  slavery  in 
the  West  Indies  in  his  youth,  exposed,  for  more  than  forty 
years,  to  the  labors  and  hardships  of  that  condition,  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  in  the  field,  and  at  the  age  of  seventy 
years,  writing  his  native  Arabic  with  the  elegance  and  fluency 
of  a  scribe ! 

I  cannot  but  regard  the  colonizing  of  Africa,  by  a  kindred 
race  of  African  origin,  as  an  enterprise  in  all  respects  as  hope- 
ful, and  in  some  respects  far  more  promising,  than  that  of 
settling  and  civilizing  America  by  an  alien  and  hostile  people. 
In  the  settlement  and  civilization  of  the  American  continent, 
either  from  the  fatality  of  circumstances,  or  the  incurable  im- 
perfection of  man,  the  extermination  of  the  native  popula- 
tion has  been  the  preliminary  condition  of  the  introduction 
of  the  civilized  race.  It  has  been  found,  or  thought,  impossi- 
ble that  the  red  man  and  the  white  man  should  subsist  side 
by  side. 


COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA.  339 

In  colonizing  Africa,  no  such  painful  incongruity  presents 
itself.  The  colored  emigrants  from  this  country  will  present 
themselves  on  the  African  shore,  a  people  of  kindred  origin, 
bringing  with  them  the  arts  of  civilized  life,  unaccompanied 
with  those  fatal  causes  of  separation  which  have  driven  the 
aborigines  of  America  before  the  approach  of  the  white  man. 
The  gentle  hand  of  nature  will  draw  towards  them  the  affec- 
tions and  confidence  of  the  natives.  The  jealousies  and  sus- 
picions which  diversity  of  race  invariably  produces,  can  have 
no  foundation ;  and  it  may  reasonably  be  expected,  if  a  vig- 
orous impulse  can  now  be  given  to  the  colony,  that  the  work 
of  civilization  will  proceed  from  it,  as  from  a  centre,  with  a 
rapidity  unexampled  in  the  history  of  other  colonies. 

I  am  aware  that  the  partial  failure  of  the  establishment  at 
Sierra  Leone  may  be  quoted,  in  opposition  to  these  encour- 
aging views.  But  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  Sierra  Leone 
is  an  establishment  totally  different,  in  its  origin  and  character, 
from  Liberia.  It  is  formed  from  the  crews  of  the  recaptured 
slave  ships,  —  helpless  savages  of  a  hundred  different  tribes, 
thrown  without  preparation  upon  the  coast,  and,  without  any 
principle  of  order  or  self-government,  subjected  to  all  the 
evils  of  a  remote  and  neglected  military  establishment.  The 
progress  that  has  been  made  at  Liberia  is,  on  the  contrary,  all 
that  could  have  been  hoped.  A  tract  of  coast  two  hundred 
miles  north  and  south,  and  twenty  or  thirty  east  and  west  ; 
a  population  of  two  thousand  emigrants,  and  several  thou- 
sands of  the  native  tribes  who  have  voluntarily  sought  the 
protection  of  the  colony  ;  with  schools  and  churches,  and  all 
the  institutions  of  civilized  life ;  a  great  state  of  prosperity, 
and  every  encouraging  prospect,  —  this  surely  is  not  slow 
progress  for  ten  years. 

And  is  there  any  thing  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  which 
makes  the  restoration  of  the  descendants  of  Africa  to  their 
native  land  necessarily  more  slow  than  the  process  of  abduc- 
tion ?  It  is  supposed  that  one  hundred  thousand  slaves  have 
been  annually  brought  from  Africa;  and  that,  too,  at  times 
when  the  trade  has  been  pursued  under  great  obstacles,  ille- 
gally, piratically,  by  stealth,  and  under  the  watch  of  ships  of 


340  COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA. 

war  stationed  to  intercept  it.  Can  any  man  doubt  that,  if  the 
governments  of  France,  Great  Britain,  and  the  Netherlands, 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  and  the  several  states,  should 
apply  their  influence,  their  power,  their  resources  to  this  great 
work,  it  might  proceed  with  any  desirable  degree  of  rapid- 
ity? The  gentleman  who  preceded  me  (Rev.  Mr  Bacon, 
of  New  Haven)  alluded  to  the  prodigious  influx  of  emi- 
grants into  this  country.  I  have  lately  seen  a  statement 
that,  within  the  past  year,  over  forty  thousand  emigrants,  from 
Great  Britain  alone,  have  arrived  at  the  single  port  of  Quebec. 
More  than  half  as  many  more  have  arrived  in  the  various 
ports  of  the  United  States,  making  an  aggregate  of  sixty 
thousand  persons,  in  the  different  ports  of  North  America.  It 
is  by  no  means  to  be  desired  at  present,  that  any  thing  like 
this  number  of  emigrants  should  be  annually  set  down  on  the 
African  coast ;  but  I  much  mistake  the  public  feeling  in  those 
parts  of  the  United  States  most  interested  in  this  question,  if 
a  weight  of  influence  and  a  supply  of  means  are  not  shortly 
applied  to  this  purpose,  commensurate  with  the  magnitude  of 
the  object  to  be  effected. 

The  age  seems  favorable  to  the  movement ;  it  is  in  hai 
mony  with  the  great  incidents  of  the  time.  From  the  east 
of  Europe  to  the  north  of  Africa,  surprising  changes,  favor- 
able to  civilization,  have  taken  place.  Greece  has  been 
brought  within  the  reach  of  the  sympathies  of  the  rest  of 
Christendom.  Temporary  disorders,  the  natural  fruit  of 
revolution,  will  create  but  a  brief  delay  in  the  advancement 
of  that  interesting  country.  The  restoration  of  the  northern 
coast  of  Africa  to  the  domain  of  civilization  has  begun.  The 
strongest  of  its  barbarous  regencies  has  been  shaken  ;  and  its 
power,  which,  for  ages,  seemed  impregnable,  —  the  scandal 
and  the  dread  of  Christendom,  —  has  crumbled  in  a  day. 
May  we  not  hope  that  a  still  more  auspicious  era  is  about  to 
commence  —  that  a  bloodless  triumph  is  to  be  achieved  on 
the  western  coast  of  Africa  ? 

Happy  for  America,  if  she  shall  take  an  honorable  lead  m 
this  great  and  beneficent  work  !  Happy,  if,  having  presented 
to  the  world,  on  her  own  soil,  a  great  model  of  popular  insti- 


COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA.  341 

tutions,  she  should  now  become  an  efficient  agent  in  their 
diffusion  over  the  ancient  abodes  of  civilization,  now  relapsed 
into  barbarity  !  Happy,  if  she  shall  be  forward  to  acquit  her 
share  of  the  mighty  debt  which  is  due  to  injured  Africa  from 
the  civilized  nations  of  the  world  !  Who  that  has  contem- 
plated the  infernal  horrors  of  the  slave  trade  ;  that  has  seen, 
in  his  mind's  eye,  hundreds  of  men,  women,  and  children, 
crowded  between  decks,  into  a  space  too  low  to  stand  up  — 
too  short  to  lie  down  —  too  narrow  to  turn  —  chained, 
scourged,  famished,  parched,  heaped  together  —  the  old  and 
the  young,  the  languishing,  the  dying,  and  the  dead  —  who 
can  dwell  on  this  spectacle,  and  not  turn  with  a  throbbing 
heart  to  the  sight  of  a  company  of  emigrants,  the  children  of 
Africa,  wafted  over  the  ocean  to  the  land  of  their  fathers, 
bound  towards  the  great  and  genial  home  of  their  race, 
commissioned  to  trample  the  slave  trade  into  the  dust,  return- 
ing from  a  civilized  land  to  scatter  the  seeds  of  civilization 
over  the  mighty  extent  of  Western  Africa  ! 

I  know  not  but  I  may  entertain  an  exaggerated  impression 
of  this  matter  —  that  I  may  see  it  under  lights  too  strong  for 
practical  life.  But,  I  must  confess,  I  think  there  is  opened  to 
the  colored  population  of  this  country  a  career  of  broad  and 
lasting  usefulness,  a  destiny  of  honor  and  exaltation,  unex- 
ampled in  history. 

There  seem  to  be  peculiar  circumstances  in  the  work,  of 
which  they  are  the  chosen  agents,  to  be  found  in  no  other 
similar  enterprise  in  the  annals  of  the  world.  A  mighty. con- 
tinent is  to  be  civilized,  —  that  is  not  without  example  in 
history  ;  but  the  restoration  of  the  descendants  of  those  who 
were  torn  as  slaves  from  this  ill-fated  region,  going  back  the 
heralds  and  missionaries  of  civilization,  with  freedom,  the 
arts,  and  Christianity  in  their  train  ;  returning  to  regenerate  a 
continent,  —  to  raise  themselves  from  a  depressed  condition 
to  one  of  the  loftiest  in  which  man  can  be  placed,  —  the 
condition  of  benefactors  of  an  entire  race,  to  the  end  of  time  ; 
this  is  the  destiny  of  the  colored  population  of  the  United 
States,  who  shall  embark  in  the  great  enterprise  of  civilizing 
Africa  ;  —  a  destiny,  as  it  seems  to  me,  without  example  in 
the  history  of  mankind. 


342  COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA. 

This  glorious  era  has  begun  to  dawn.  Over  a  line  of 
coast,  of  nearly  one  thousand  miles  in  extent,  the  purpl* 
streaks  of  the  morning  are  beginning  to  appear  ;  and 


•jocund  day 


Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain  tops." 

From  the  extreme  north  of  the  British  territory  of  Sierra 
Leone,  southward  to  the  Cape  of  Palmas,  the  entire  coast, 
with  one  or  two  exceptions,  has  thrown  off  the  curse  of  the 
slave  trade.  Many,  I  know,  who  hear  me,  have  seen  the 
numbers  of  the  Liberia  Herald,  a  respectable  newspaper, 
printed  at  Monrovia,  and  edited  by  a  colored  emigrant,  regu- 
larly educated  at  one  of  the  colleges  of  the  United  States.* 
You  and  I,  sir,  and  many  gentlemen  around  me,  have  listened, 
in  the  committee  rooms  of  this  Capitol,  to  the  animated 
and  intelligent  accounts  of  the  prosperity  of  this  colony,  the 
fertility  of  the  soil,  the  salubrity  of  the  climate,  the  freedom 
and  happiness  of  the  mode  of  life  in  Liberia,  given  by  an 
emigrant  from  the  United  States,  a  descendant  of  African 
slaves,  who  had  amassed  a  fortune,  by  honest  and  successful 
industry,  in  the  land  of  his  fathers. 

Sir,  when  men  have  a  great,  benevolent,  arid  holy  object  m 
view,  of  permanent  interest,  obstacles  are  nothing.  If  it  fails 
in  the  hands  of  one,  it  will  be  taken  up  by  another.  If  it 
exceeds  the  powers  of  an  individual,  society  will  unite 
towards  the  desired  end.  If  the  force  of  public  opinion  in 
one 'country  is  insufficient,  the  kindred  spirits  of  foreign 
countries  will  lend  their  aid.  If  it  remain  unachieved  by  one 
generation,  it  goes  down,  as  a  heritage  of  duty  and  honor,  to 
the  next ;  and,  through  the  long  chain  of  counsels  and  efforts, 
from  the  first  conception  of  the  benevolent  mind  that  planned 
the  great  work,  to  its  final  and  glorious  accomplishment,  there 
is  a  steady  and  unseen,  but  irresistible  cooperation  of  that 
divine  influence  which  orders  all  things  for  good. 

Am  I  told  that  the  work  we  have  in  hand  is  too  great  to  be 
done  ?  Too  great,  I  ask.  to  be  done  when  ?  too  great  to  be 

*  At  Bowdoin  College,  Brunswick,  Maine. 


COLONIZATION    OF    AFRICA.  343 

done  by  whom  ?  Too  great,  I  admit,  to  be  done  at  once ;  too 
great  to  be  done  by  this  society  ;  too  great  to  be  done  by  this 
generation,  perhaps  ;  but  not  too  great  to  be  done.  Nothing 
is  too  great  to  be  done,  which  is  founded  on  truth  and  jus- 
tice, and  which  is  pursued  with  the  meek  and  gentle  spirit  of 
Christian  love.  When  this  objection  was  suggested,  in  the 
British  House  of  Commons,  to  the  measures  proposed  for  the 
regeneration  of  the  children  of  Africa,  Mr  Pitt,  in  reply  to  it, 
exclaimed,  "  We  Britons  were  once  as  obscure  among  the 
nations  of  the  earth,  as  savage  in  our  manners,  as  debased  in 
our  morals,  as  degraded  in  our  understandings,  as  these  un- 
happy Africans  are  at  present."  The  work  is  doubtless  too 
great  to  be  entirely  effected  by  this  society,  by  the  most 
ardent  and  zealous  of  its  friends,  perhaps,  for  the  present  and 
the  next  succeeding  generation.  But  is  it  too  great  for  the 
enlightened  public  opinion  of  the  world  ?  Is  it  too  great  for 
the  joint  efforts  of  the  United  States,  of  Great  Britain,  and 
of  France,  and  the  other  Christian  countries,  already  pledged 
to  the  cause  ?  Is  it  too  great  for  the  transmitted  purpose,  the 
perpetuated  concert  of  generations  succeeding  generations, 
for  centuries  to  come  ?  Sir,  I  may  ask,  without  irreverence, 
in  a  case  like  this,  though  it  be  too  great  for  man,  is  it  too 
great  for  that  AUGUST  PROVIDENCE,  whose  counsels  run  along 
the  line  of  ages,  and  to  whom  a  thousand  years  are  as  one 
day  ? 


EDUCATION  IN  THE  WESTERN  STATES.* 


THE  lucid  exposition  which  has  been  made  of  the  object 
of  the  meeting  by  the  right  reverend  bishop  (Mcllvaine) 
lightens  the  task  of  recommending  it  to  an  audience  like  this. 
I  do  not  know  but  I  should  act  more  advisedly  to  leave  his 
cogent  and  persuasive  statement  to  produce  its  natural  effect, 
without  any  attempt  on  my  part  to  enforce  it.  But  as  we 
have  assembled  to  communicate  our  mutual  impressions  on 
the  subject,  —  to  consult  with  each  other  whether  we  can  do 
any  thing,  and  whether  we  will  do  any  thing,  to  promote  the 
object  in  view,  (which,  I  own,  seems  to  me  one  of  high 
moment,)  I  will,  with  the  indulgence  of  the  meeting,  and  at 
the  request  of  those  by  whom  it  is  called,  briefly  state  the 
aspect  in  which  the  matter  presents  itself  to  my  mind. 

.1  understand  the  object  of  the  meeting  to  be,  to  aid  the 
funds  of  a  rising  seminary  of  learning  in  the  interior  of  the 
state  of  Ohio,  particularly  with  a  view  to  the  training  up  of 
a  well-educated  ministry  of  the  gospel  in  that  part  of  the 
United  States ;  and  to  consider  the  claims  of  such  an  object 
on  this  community. 

As  to  the  general  question  of  the  establishment  and  support 
of  places  of  education,  there  are  principally  two  courses 
which  have  been  pursued  in  the  practice  of  nations.  One  is, 
to  leave  them,  so  to  say,  as  an  after-thought,  —  the  last  thing 
provided  for  ;  —  to  let  the  community  grow  up,  become  pop- 
ulous, rich,  powerful ;  an  immense  body  of  unenlightened 
peasants,  artisans,  traders,  soldiers,  subjected  to  a  small 

*  Speech  at  a  public  meeting  held  in  St  Paul's  Church,  Boston,  21st 
May,  1833,  on  behalf  of  Kenyon  College,  Ohio. 

(344) 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES.        H45 

privileged  class ;  —  and  then  let  learning  creep  in  with 
luxury ;  be  itself  esteemed  a  luxury,  endowed  out  of  the  sur- 
plus of  vast  private  fortunes,  or  endowed  by  the  state ;  and 
instead  of  diffusing  a  wholesome  general  influence,  of  which 
all  partake,  and  by  which  the  entire  character  of  the  people 
is  softened  and  elevated,  forming  itself  but  another  of  those 
circumstances  of  disparity  and  jealous  contrast  of  condition,  of 
which  too  many  were  in  existence  before  ;  adding  the  aristoc- 
racy of  learning,  acquired  at  expensive  seats  of  science,  to  that 
of  rank  and  wealth.  This  is,  in  general,  the  course  which  has 
been  pursued  with  respect  to  the  establishment  of  places  of  edu- 
cation in  some  countries  of  Europe.  The  other  method  is  that 
introduced  by  our  forefathers,  namely,  to  lay  the  foundations 
of  the  commonwealth  on  the  corner-stone  of  religion  and 
education ;  to  make  the  means  of  enlightening  the  community 
go  hand  in  hand  with  the  means  for  protecting  it  against  its 
enemies,  extending  its  commerce,  and  increasing  its  numbers ; 
to  make  the  care  of  the  mind,  from  the  outset,  a  part  of  its 
public  economy ;  the  growth  of  knowledge,  a  portion  of  its 
public  wealth. 

This,  sir,  is  the  New  England  system.  It  is  the  system 
on  which  the  colony  of  Massachusetts  was  led,  in  1647,  to 
order  that  a  school  should  be  supported  in  every  town ;  and  in 
every  town  containing  a  hundred  families,  the  school  was 
required  to  be  one  where  youth  could  "  be  fitted  for  the  uni- 
versity." On  the  same  system,  eleven  years  earlier,  the  foun- 
dations of  Harvard  College  were  laid,  by  an  appropriation  out 
of  the  scanty  means  of  the  country,  and  at  a  period  of  great 
public  distress,  of  a  sum  equal  to  the  whole  amount  raised 
during  the  year  for  all  the  other  public  charges.  I  do  not 
know  in  what  words  I  can  so  well  describe  this  system,  as  in 
those  used  by  our  fathers  themselves.  Quoted  as  they  have 
been,  times  innumerable,  they  will  bear  quoting  again,  and 
seem  to  me  peculiarly  apposite  to  this  occasion :  "  After 
God  had  carried  us  safe  to  New  England,  and  we  had  builded 
our  houses,  provided  necessaries  for  our  livelihood,  reared 
convenient  places  for  God's  worship,  and  settled  the  civil 
government,  one  of  the  next  things  we  longed  for  and  looked 
VOL.  i.  44 


346        EDUCATION    IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES. 

after  was  to  advance  learning,  and  perpetuate  it  to  posterity ; 
dreading  to  leave  an  illiterate  ministry  to  the  churches,  when 
the  present  ministers  shall  be  in  the  dust." 

Now,  sir,  it  is  proposed  to  assist  our  brethren  in  Ohio  to 
lay  the  foundations  of  their  commonwealth  on  this  good  old 
New  England  basis ;  and  if  ever  there  was  a  region  where  it 
was  peculiarly  expedient  that  this  should  be  done,  most 
assuredly  the  western  part  of  America  —  and  the  state  of 
Ohio  as  much  as  any  other  portion  of  it  —  is  that  region.  It 
is  two  centuries  since  New  England  was  founded,  and  its 
population  by  the  last  census  fell  short  of  two  millions. 
Forty  years  ago,  Ohio  was  a  wilderness,  and,  by  the  same 
enumeration,  its  population  was  little  less  than  a  million.  At 
this  moment,  the  population  of  Ohio  (the  settlement  of  which 
was  commenced  in  1788,  by  a  small  party  from  our  counties 
of  Essex  and  Middlesex)  is  almost  twice  as  large  as  that  of 
our  ancient  and  venerable  Massachusetts.  I  have  seen  this 
wonderful  state,  and  the  terraqueous  globe  does  not  contain  a 
spot  more  favorably  situated.  Linked  to  New  Orleans  on 
one  side  by  its  own  beautiful  river  and  the  father  of  waters, 
and  united  to  New  York  on  the  other  side  by  the  lake  and 
the  Erie  Canal,  she  has,  by  a  stupendous  exertion  of  her  own 
youthful  resources,  completed  the  vast  circuit  of  communica- 
tion between  them.  The  face  of  the  country  is  unusually 
favorable  to  settlement.  There  is  little  waste  or  broken 
land.  The  soil  is  fertile,  the  climate  salubrious ;  it  is  settled 
by  as  truehearted  and  substantial  a  race  as  ever  founded  a 
republic ;  and  there  they  now  stand,  a  million  of  souls,  gath- 
ered into  a  political  community  in  a  single  generation ! 

Now,  it  is  plain  that  this  extraordinary  rapidity  of  increase 
requires  extraordinary  means  to  keep  the  moral  and  intellec- 
tual growth  of  the  people  on  an  equality  with  their  advance- 
ment in  numbers  and  prosperity.  These  last  take  care  of 
themselves.  They  require  nothing  but  protection  from  for- 
eign countries,  and  security  of  property,  under  the  ordinary 
administration  of  justice.  But  a  system  of  institutions  for 
education  —  schools  and  colleges  —  requires  extra  effort  and 
means.  The  individual  settler  can  fell  the  forest,  build  his 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES.        347 

log-house,  reap  his  crops,  and  raise  up  his  family,  in  the  round 
of  occupations  pursued  by  himself;  but  he  cannot,  of  him- 
self, found  or  support  a  school,  far  less  a  college ;  nor  can  he 
do  as  much  towards  it  as  a  single  individual  in  older  states, 
where  ampler  resources  and  a  denser  population  afford  means, 
cooperation,  and  encouragement  at  every  turn.  The  very 
fact,  therefore,  that  the  growth  of  the  country  in  numbers 
has  been  unexampled,  instead  of  suggesting  reasons  why 
efforts  in  the  cause  of  education  are  superfluous,  furnishes  an 
increased  and  increasing  claim  on  the  sympathy  and  good 
offices  of  all  the  friends  of  learning  and  education. 

What,  then,  are  the  reasonable  grounds  of  the  claim,  as 
made  on  us  ?  I  think  I  perceive  several. 

We  live  in  a  community  comparatively  ancient,  possessed 
of  an  abundance  of  accumulated  capital,  the  result  of  the 
smiles  of  Providence  on  the  industry  of  the  people.  We 
profess  to  place  a  high  value  on  intellectual  improvement,  on 
education,  on  religion,  and  on  the  institutions  for  its  support. 
We  habitually  take  credit  that  we  do  so.  To  whom  should 
the  infant  community,  destitute  of  these  institutions,  desir- 
ous of  enjoying  their  benefits,  and  as  yet  not  abounding  in 
disposable  means,  —  to  whom  should  they  look  ?  Whither 
shall  they  go,  but  to  their  brethren,  who  are  able  to  appreci- 
ate the  want,  and  competent  to  relieve  it  ?  Some  one  must 
do  it.  These  institutions,  struggling  into  existence,  must  be 
nurtured,  or  they  sink.  To  what  quarter  can  they  address 
themselves,  with  any  prospect  of  success,  if  they  fail  here  ? 
Where  will  they  find  a  community  more  likely  to  take  an 
interest  in  the  object,  to  feel  a  livelier  sympathy  in  the  warit, 
more  liberal,  more  able  to  give,  more  accustomed  to  give  ? 

It  is  not  merely  in  the  necessity  of  things,  that  young  and 
rising  communities,  if  assisted  at  all,  should  derive  that  as- 
sistance from  the  older  and  richer ;  but  the  period  is  so  short, 
since  we  ourselves  stood  in  that  relation  to  the  mother  coun- 
try, and  derived,  from  her  bounty,  benefactions  to  our  insti- 
tutions, that  the  obligation  to  requite  these  favors,  in  the 
only  practicable  way,  is  fresh  and  strong,  and  like  that  which 
requires  a  man  to  pay  his  debts.  Dr  Franklin  was  accus 


348         EDUCATION    IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES. 

tomcdj  sometimes,  to  bestow  a  pecuniary  favor  on  a  young 
man,  and,  instead  of  requiring  payment,  to  enjoin  the  object 
of  his  bounty,  when  advanced  in  life,  and  in  prosperous 
circumstances,  to  give  the  same  sum  of  money,  with  a  like  in- 
junction, to  some  other  meritorious  and  needy  young  person, 
The  early  annals  of  our  country  contain  many  instances  of 
liberality  from  beyond  the  ocean.  Our  own  University  and 
that  of  New  Haven  were  largely  indebted  —  particularly 
ours  —  to  pious  and  benevolent  individuals  in  England.  I 
know  no  mode  of  requiting  these  favors  (which  we  cannot 
repay  to  the  country  from  which  we  received  them ;  she 
wants  nothing  we  can  give)  more  natural  and  more  simple, 
than  by  imitating  the  liberality  of  which  we  have  profited, 
and  supplying  the  wants  of  others,  at  that  stage  of  their 
social  progress,  at  which  our  own  were  supplied. 

The  inducements  to  such  an  exercise  of  liberality,  on  our 
part,  towards  our  brethren  in  the  west,  are  certainly  strongei 
than  those  which  could  have  influenced  England  to  assist  the 
rising  institutions  of  America.  The  settlers  of  the  western 
country  are  not  the  aggrieved  and  persecuted  children  of  the 
older  states.  We  have  not  driven  them  out  from  among  us, 
by  cruel  Star  Chamber  edicts  ;  nor  have  they,  in  leaving  us, 
shaken  off  from  their  feet  the  dust  of  an  unfriendly  soil. 
They  have  moved  away  from  the  paternal  roof,  to  seek  a 
new  but  not  a  foreign  home.  They  have  parted  from  their 
native  land,  neither  in  anger  nor  despair  ;  but  full  of  buoyant 
hope  and  tender  regret.  They  have  gone  to  add  to  the  Ameri- 
can family,  not  to  dismember  it.  They  are  our  brethren,  not 
only  after  the  flesh,  but  after  the  spirit  also,  in  character  and 
in  feeling.  We,  in  our  place,  regard  them  neither  with 
indifference,  jealousy,  nor  enmity,  but  with  fraternal  affection 
and  true  good  will.  Whom,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  should 
we  assist,  if  we  refuse  to  assist  them  ?  What,  sir,  can  we 
minister  to  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  wants  of  Syria,  and 
of  Greece,  of  Burmah,  of  Ceylon,  and  of  the  remotest  isles 
of  the  Pacific  ?  Have  we  enough,  and  to  spare,  for  those 
remote  nations  and  tribes,  with  whom  we  have  no  nearer  kin- 
dred, than  that  Adam  is  our  common  parent,  and  Christ  OUT 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES.      349 

common  Savior ;  and  shall  we  shut  our  hands  on  the  call  for 
the  soul's  food,  which  is  addressed  to  us,  by  these  our  breth- 
ren, our  schoolmates ;  whose  fathers  stood  side  by  side  with 
ours,  in  the  great  crisis  of  the  country's  fortune ;  whose  fore- 
fathers rest  side  by  side  with  ours,  in  the  sacred  soil  of  New 
England  ?  I  say  nothing,  sir,  in  disparagement  of  the  efforts 
made  to  carry  the  gospel  to  the  farthest  corners  of  the  earth. 
I  wish,  with  all  my  heart,  entire  success  to  those  efforts.  But, 
surely,  the  law  of  Christian  love  will  not  permit  us,  in  our 
care  for  the  distant  heathen,  to  overlook  the  claims  of  our 
fellow-citizens  at  home. 

On  a  theme  like  this,  I  am  unwilling  to  appeal  to  any  thing 
like  interest ;  nor  will  I  appeal  to  an  interest  of  a  low  and 
narrow  character ;  but  I  cannot  shut  my  eyes  on  those  great 
considerations  of  an  enlarged  policy,  which  demand  of  us 
a  reasonable  liberality  towards  the  improvement  of  these 
western  communities.  In  the  year  1800,  the  state  of  Ohio 
sent  one  member  to  Congress  ;  and  Massachusetts  —  not  then 
separated  from  Maine  —  sent  twenty-one.  Now,  Ohio  sends 
nineteen ;  and  Massachusetts  —  recently,  and  I  am  con- 
strained to  add,  in  my  judgment,  unfairly,*  deprived  of  one 
of  her  members  —  sends  but  twelve.  Nor  will  it  stop  here. 
"  They  must  increase,"  and  we,  in  comparison,  "  must  de- 
crease." At  the  next  periodical  enumeration  Ohio  will  prob- 
ably be  entitled  to  nearly  thirty  representatives,  and  Massa- 
chusetts to  little  more  than  a  third  of  this  number.  Now, 
sir,  I  will  not,  on  this  occasion,  and  in  this  house  of  prayer, 
unnecessarily  introduce  topics  and  illustrations,  better  befjt- 
ting  other  resorts.  I  will  not  descant  on  interests  and  ques- 
tions, which,  in  the  divided  state  of  the  public  councils,  will 
be  decided,  one  way  or  the  other,  by  a  small  majority  of 
voices.  I  really  wish  to  elevate  my  own  mind,  and,  as  far 
as  lies  in  me,  the  minds  of  those  I  have  the  honor  to  address, 
to  higher  views.  I  would  ask  you,  not  in  reference  to  this 
or  that  question,  but  in  reference  to  the  whole  complexion 

*  By  adopting  a  ratio  of  representation  which  left  Massachusetts  with 
an  unrepresented  fraction,  sufficient,  within  a  few  hundreds,  for  anothei 
member 


350         EDUCATION    IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES. 

of  the  destinies  of  the  country,  as  depending  on  the  action 
of  the  general  government,  —  I  would  ask  you  as  to  that  mo- 
mentous future  which  lies  before  us  and  our  children,  —  By 
whom,  by  what  influence,  from  what  quarter  is  our  common 
country,  with  all  the  rich  treasure  of  its  character,  its  hopes, 
its  fortunes,  to  be  controlled,  to  be  sustained,  and  guided  in 
the  paths  of  wisdom,  honor,  and  prosperity,  or  sunk  into  the 
depth  of  degeneracy  and  humiliation  ?  Sir,  the  response  is 
in  every  man's  mind,  on  every  man's  lips.  The  balance  of 
the  country's  fortunes  is  in  the  west.  There  lie,  wrapped 
up  in  the  folds  of  an  eventful  futurity,  the  influences  which 
will  most  powerfully  affect  our  national  weal  and  woe.  We 
have,  in  the  order  of  Providence,  allied  ourselves  to  a  family 
of  sister  communities,  springing  into  existence  and  increasing 
with  unexampled  rapidity.  We  have  called  them  into  a  full 
partnership  in  the  government ;  the  course  of  events  has  put 
crowns  on  their  heads  and  sceptres  in  their  hands ;  and  we 
must  abide  the  result. 

But  has  the  power  indeed  departed  from  us  —  the  efficient, 
ultimate  power  ?  That,  sir,  is  in  a  great  measure  as  we  will. 
The  real  government,  in  this  country,  is  that  of  opinion. 
Towards  the  formation  of  the  public  opinion  of  the  country, 
New  England,  while  she  continues  true  to  herself,  will,  as  in 
times  past,  contribute  vastly  beyond  the  proportion  of  her 
numerical  strength.  But  besides  the  general  ascendency 
which  she  will  maintain  through  the  influence  of  public  opin- 
ion, we  can  do  two  things  to  secure  a  strong  and  abiding 
interest  in  the  west,  operating,  I  do  not  say  in  our  favor,  but 
in  favor  of  principles  and  measures  which  we  think  sound 
and  salutary.  The  first  is,  promptly  to  extend  towards  the 
west,  on  every  fitting  occasion  which  presents  itself,  con- 
sistently with  public  and  private  duty,  either  in  the  course  of 
legislation  or  the  current  of  affairs,  those  good  offices  which 
of  right  pertain  to  the  relative  condition  of  the  two  parts  of 
the  country ;  to  let  the  west  know,  by  experience,  both  in 
the  halls  of  Congress  and  the  channels  of  commercial  and 
social  intercourse,  that  the  east  is  truly,  cordially,  and  effec- 
tively her  friend,  not  her  rival  nor  enemy. 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES.        351 

The  kindly  influence  thus  produced  will  prove  of  great 
power  and  value,  and  will  go  far  to  secure  a  return  of  frater- 
nal feeling  and  political  sympathy  ;  but  it  will  not,  of  itself, 
on  great  and  trying  occasions  of  a  supposed  diversity  of 
sectional  interest,  always  prove  strong  enough  to  maintain  a 
harmony  of  councils.  But  we  can  do  another  thing,  of  vastly 
greater  moment.  We  can  put  in  motion  a  principle  of  influ- 
ence, of  a  much  higher  and  more  generous  character.  We 
can  furnish  the  means  of  building  up  institutions  of  educa- 
tion. We  can,  from  our  surplus,  contribute  towards  the 
establishment  and  endowment  of  those  seminaries,  where  the 
mind  of  the  west  shall  be  trained  and  enlightened.  Yes,  sir, 
we  can  do  this  ;  and  it  is  so  far  optional  with  us,  whether  the 
power  to  which  we  have  subjected  ourselves  shall  be  a  power 
of  intelligence  or  of  ignorance  ;  a  reign  of  reflection  and 
reason,  or  of  reckless  strength ;  a  reign  of  darkness,  or  of 
light.  This,  sir,  is  true  statesmanship ;  this  is  policy,  of 
which  Washington  would  not  be  ashamed.  While  the  parti- 
san of  the  day  plumes  himself  upon  a  little  worthless  popu 
larity,  gained  by  bribing  the  interest  of  one  quarter,  and 
falling  in  with  the  prejudices  of  another ;  it  is  truly  worthy  of 
a  patriot,  by  contributing  towards  the  means  of  steadily, 
diffusively,  and  permanently  enlightening  the  public  mind,  as 
far  as  opportunity  exists,  in  every  part  of  the  country,  to 
secure  it  in  a  wise  and  liberal  course  of  public  policy. 

Let  no  Bostonian  capitalist,  then,  —  let  no  man  who  has  a 
large  stake  in  New  England,  and  who  is  called  upon  to  aid 
this  college  in  the  centre  of  Ohio,  —  think  that  he  is  called 
upon  to  exercise  his  liberality  at  a  distance,  towards  those  in 
whom  he  has  no  concern.  Sir,  it  is  his  own  interest  he  is 
called  upon  to  promote.  It  is  not  their  work  he  is  called 
upon  to  do  ;  it  is  his  own  work.  It  is  my  opinion  —  which, 
though  it  may  sound  extravagant,  will,  I  believe,  bear  exami- 
nation —  that,  if  the  question  were  propounded  to  us,  this 
moment,  whether  it  were  most  for  the  benefit  of  Massachu- 
setts to  give  fifty  thousand  dollars  towards  founding  another 
college  in  Middlesex,  Hampshire,  or  Berkshire,  or  for  the 


352        EDUCATION    IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES. 

support  of  this  college  in  Ohio,  we  should,  if  well  ad- 
vised, decide  for  the  latter.  We  have  Harvard,  Amherst, 
Williams  ;  —  we  do  not  want  another  college.  In  the  west  is 
a  vast  and  growing  population,  possessing  a  great  and  increas- 
ing influence  in  the  political  system  of  which  we  are  members. 
Is  it  for  our  interest,  strongly,  vitally  for  our  interest,  that 
this  population  should  be  intelligent  and  well  educated ;  or 
ignorant,  and  enslaved  to  all  the  prejudices  which  beset  an 
ignorant  people  ? 

When,  then,  the  right  reverend  bishop  and  the  friends  of 
the  west  ask  you,  on  this  occasion,  to  help  them,  they  ask 
you,  in  effect,  to  spare  a  part  of  your  surplus  means  for  an 
object,  in  which,  to  say  the  least,  you  have  a  common  interest 
with  them.  They  ask  you  to  contribute  to  give  security  to 
your  own  property,  by  diffusing  the  means  of  light  and  truth 
throughout  the  region  where  so  much  of  the  power  to  pre- 
serve or  to  shake  it  resides.  They  ask  you  to  contribute  to 
perpetuate  the  Union,  by  training  up  a  well-educated  popula- 
tion in  the  quarter  which  may  hereafter  be  exposed  to  strong 
centrifugal  influences.  They  ask  you  to  recruit  your  waning 
strength  in  the  national  councils,  by  enlisting  on  your  side 
their  swelling  numbers,  reared  in  the  discipline  of  sound 
learning  and  sober  wisdom  ;  so  that,  when  your  voice  in  the 
government  shall  become  comparatively  weak,  instead  of 
being  drowned  by  a  strange  and  unfriendly  clamor,  from  this 
mighty  region  it  may  be  reechoed,  with  increased  strength 
and  a  sympathetic  response,  from  the  rising  millions  of  the 
North-western  States.  Yes,  sir,  they  do  more.  They  ask 
you  to  make  yourselves  rich,  in  their  respect,  good  will,  and 
gratitude  ;  —  to  make  your  name  dear  and  venerable,  in  their 
distant  shades.  They  ask  you  to  give  their  young  men 
cause  to  love  you,  now,  in  the  spring-time  of  life,  before  the 
heart  is  chilled  and  hardened ;  to  make  their  old  men,  who, 
in  the  morning  of  their  days,  went  out  from  your  borders, 
lift  up  their  hands  for  a  blessing  on  you,  and  say,  "  Ah,  this 
is  the  good  old-fashioned  liberality  of  the  land  where  we 
were  born  !  "  Yes,  sir,  we  shall  raise  an  altar  in  the  remote 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    WESTERN    STATES.         353 

wilderness.  Our  eyes  will  not  behold  the  smoke  of  its  in- 
cense, as  it  curls  up  to  heaven.  But  there  the  altar  will  stand  ; 
there  the  pure  sacrifice  of  the  spirit  will  be  offered  up ;  and 
the  worshipper  who  comes,  in  all  future  time,  to  pay  his  devo- 
tions before  it,  will  turn  his  face  to  the  eastward  and  think 
of  the  land  vf  his  benefactors, 
VOL.  i.  45 


THE  BUNKER  HILL  MONUMENT.' 


MR  PRESIDENT,  AND  BRETHREN  OF  THE  MASSACHUSETTS 

CHARITABLE  MECHANIC  ASSOCIATION, 

(FOR,  by  your  favor,  I  enjoy  the  privilege  of  being  an  hon- 
orary member  of  that  institution,)  when  I  consider  the  aus- 
pices under  which  this  meeting  is  assembled  ;  when  I  reflect 
upon  the  zeal  evinced  in  this  cause  by  the  Mechanic  Associa- 
tion, and  the  moral  power  with  which  that  body  moves  to  the 
accomplishment  of  any  object  which  it  takes  in  hand,  I  feel 
a  satisfaction  which  I  want  words  to  express.  It  was  my 
fortune  to  be  one  of  those  who  took  an  early  interest  in  the 
erection  of  a  monument  upon  Bunker  Hill.  In  the  efforts  made 
to  bring  forward  and  carry  on  this  great  work,  I  bore  a  very 
humble,  but,  I  believe  I  may  say,  an  assiduous  and  laborious 
part.  I  gave,  sir,  all  I  had  to  give  —  a  large  portion  of  my 
time  and  my  best  efforts,  in  union  with  my  valued  associates, 
to  recommend  this  object  to  the  public  favor.  I  shared  with 
the  friends  of  the  enterprise  the  satisfaction  of  witnessing  the 
first  burst  of  enthusiasm  with  which  the  project  was  wel- 
comed, and  their  regret  and  mortification  at  finding  that  the 
popular  excitement  and  interest  which  were  to  furnish  the 
resources  to  carry  on  this  expensive  work  did  not  hold  out  to 
its  completion.  If  it  affords  satisfaction,  or  is  deemed  a  duty, 
in  any  quarter,  to  indicate  faults  committed  by  the  early 
boards  of  directors,  to  point  out  errors  of  judgment  into 
which  it  is  supposed  they  fell,  (errors  of  intention  will  not, 

*  Speech  delivered  in  Faneuil  Hall,  28th  May,  1833,  on  the  subject  of 
the  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  at  a  meeting  called  by  the  Massachusetts 
Charitable  Mechanic  Association,  to  take  measures  for  its  completion. 

(354) 


THE    BUNKER    HILL    MONUMENT.  355 

I  think,  be  imputed  to  them,)  —  I,  for  one,  will,  with  meek- 
ness, submit  to  the  rebuke  from  any  individual  who  has  given 
more  of  his  time,  attention,  labor  —  and  money  even,  in 
proportion  to  their  means  —  than  the  members  of  these  much 
censured  boards  of  directors.  Nay,  sir,  even  from  any  one 
who  has  not  done  this  I  will  submit,  for  one,  to  any  deserved 
rebuke,  if  he  will  —  now  that  the  work  is  so  far  advanced 
that  its  completion  is  matter  of  calculation,  and  now  that  the 
state  of  the  times  admits  and  encourages  a  fresh  appeal  to  the 
liberality  of  a  prosperous  community  —  step  forward  and 
exert  himself  zealously  and  effectually  in  the  cause.  I  do 
not  rise  to  vindicate  former  boards  of  directors,  nor  former 
measures,  but  to  congratulate  you,  sir,  and  my  fellow-citizens, 
on  the  prospect  which  is  now  opening  upon  the  work  ;  and 
cheerfully,  for  one,  to  transfer  to  those  who  shall  now  take  it 
up  and  complete  it  the  unshared  and  unqualified  credit  of  the 
patriotic  undertaking.  The  work,  I  am  confident,  will  now 
be  completed.  It  is  taken  in  hand  by  those  accustomed  to 
finish  what  they  undertake  ;  and,  whatever  we  have  done 
before,  I  am  sure,  sir,  we  are  now  hammering  upon  the  nail 
that  will  go. 

Sir,  I  suppose  there  can  be  but  one  opinion  on  the  ques- 
tion, when  it  is  fairly  stated.  It  is  not  whether  the  monu- 
ment shall  be  built,  but  whether  it  shall  be  left  incomplete ; 
not  whether  it  shall  be  begun,  but  whether  it  shall  be  finished. 
Nay,  not  even  exactly  this.  The  question  is  not  whether  it 
shall  be  finished  at  all,  but  whether  it  shall  be  finished  by 
us,  or,  after  remaining  unfinished  another  half  century,  a  me- 
morial, —  not  to  the  renown  of  the  great  men  we  commem- 
orate, but  to  the  discredit  of  this  generation  of  their  descend- 
ants, —  the  honor  of  completing  it  shall  be  reserved  to  other 
times,  when  a  more  enduring  patriotic  sentiment  shall  be 
awakened  in  its  favor. 

That  it  will  be  completed,  —  whether  by  us  or  not,  —  is 
certain.  What  is  already  done  is  as  substantial  as  the  great 
pyramid  of  Egypt.  The  foundations  have  been  laid  with 
such  depth  and  solidity,  that  nothing  but  an  earthquake  can 
shake  them.  The  part  already  constructed  will  stand  to  the 


356        THE  BUNKER  HILL  MONUMENT. 

end  of  time ;  and  the  real  question  which  we  have  to  settle 
is,  will  we  leave  it  in  its  present  state,  an  object  unsightly  to 
the  eye  and  painful  to  the  mind ;  or  will  we,  who  assisted  to 
lay  the  foundations,  enjoy  the  satisfaction  of  beholding  the 
noble  shaft  rising  in  simple  majesty  towards  the  heavens, 
where,  in  the  language  of  that  surpassing  eloquence,  which  I 
would  to  Heaven,  Mr  President,  could  rouse  and  animate  us 
this  afternoon,  "  the  earliest  light  of  the  morning  shall  gild  it, 
and  parting  day  linger  and  play  on  its  summit."* 

But,  sir,  I  wrong  myself,  and  I  wrong  my  fellow-citizens 
present,  in  treating  this  subject  as  if  the  strongest  reason  for 
completing  the  monument  arose  from  mortification  and  regret, 
at  leaving  it  in  its  present  state.  Far  otherwise,  I  know,  sir, 
do  you  view  this  question  ;  far  otherwise  do  I  view  it  myself. 
Those  great  patriotic  and  moral  inducements  which  originally 
prompted  the  enterprise,  remain  in  unimpaired  force,  and  must 
gather  strength  with  each  succeeding  year.  The  idea  which 
lay  at  the  basis  of  this  undertaking  was,  to  redeem  from  all 
desecrating  uses,  and  devote  to  the  eternal  remembrance  of 
the  event  of  which  it  was  the  scene,  the  summit  of  Bunker 
Hill,  and  to  erect  upon  its  height  a  plain  but  majestic  monu- 
mental structure,  to  identify  the  spot  to  the  latest  time.  This 
idea  was  first  conceived  by  an  amiable  and  accomplished 
fellow-citizen,  now  no  more,  (the  late  William  Tudor,)  when 
the  half  century  was  near  expiring,  since  the  occurrence  of 
the  event.  It  was  by  him  communicated  to  a  circle  of 
friends,  and  by  them  to  the  public,  by  whose  favor  the  enter- 
prise was  so  far  advanced  that  the  corner  stone  was  laid  in 
the  presence  of  such  an  assembly  as  was  perhaps  never  before 
witnessed,  on  the  jubilee  anniversary  of  the  battle,  —  the 
seventeenth  of  June,  1825.  It  was  my  misfortune,  sir,  not  to 
be  present  on  that  auspicious  day.  I  was  absent  on  the  public 
service,  at  a  distance.  But  I  know  too  well  the  feelings 
which  animated  the  mighty  multitude  gathered  together  on 
that  hallowed  spot,  in  the  presence  of  the  nation's  guest, 
returning  from  his  triumphant  progress  through  the  Union,  in 

*  Mr  Webster's  address,  on  occasion  of  the  laying  of  the  corner  stone. 


THE    BUNKER    HILL    MONUMENT.  357 

the  presence  of  the  time-worn  remnants  of  the  battle  and  of 
the  revolutionary  war,  and  within  the  hearing  of  that  all-elo- 
quent voice,  which  poured  forth  its  deepest  and  richest  strains 
on  the  glorious  occasion,  —  not  to  appeal  fearlessly  to  all  who 
heard  it,  that  they  felt  that  it  was  good  to  be  there.  They 
felt  that  the  event  deserved  to  be  commemorated ;  that  the 
spot  ought,  through  all  time,  to  be  marked  out  and  kept  sa- 
cred ;  and  that  this  generation  owed  it  to  that  which  preceded 
us,  and  bought  for  us  with  its  blood  this  great  heritage  of 
blessings,  to  erect  upon  this  spot  a  monumental  structure, 
which  should  last  as  long  as  our  freedom  shall  last,  — as  long 
as  a  happy  posterity  of  Americans  shall  have  cause  to  cherish 
the  memory  of  their  fathers. 

And  do  not  these  reasons  still  exist?  Is  the  spot  less 
precious,  now  that  eight  more  seasons  have  wept  their  dews 
over  the  dear  and  sacred  blood  that  has  remained  for  eight 
more  years  uncommemorated  beneath  the  sod?  Are  the 
valor,  the  self-devotion  of  the  heroes  of  that  day,  —  of  War- 
ren, and  Prescott,  and  Putnam,  and  Stark,  and  their  gallant 
associates,  —  less  deserving  of  celebration  ?  Is  this  mighty  and 
eventful  scene  in  the  opening  drama  of  the  revolution  less 
worthy  of  celebration,  now  that  eight  more  years,  in  the 
prosperous  enjoyment  of  our  liberties,  contrasted  as  they  have 
been  with  disastrous  struggles  in  other  countries,  have  given 
us  fresh  cause  for  gratitude  to  our  fathers  ? 

But  I  am  met  with  the  great  objection,  What  good  will 
the  monument  do?  I  beg  leave,  sir,  to  exercise  my  birth- 
right as  a  Yankee,  and  answer  this  question  by  asking  two 
or  three  more,  to  which  I  believe  it  will  be  quite  as  difficult 
to  furnish  a  satisfactory  reply.  I  am  asked,  What  good  will 
the  monument  do  ?  And  I  ask,  What  good  does  any  thing 
do  ?  What  is  good  ?  Does  any  thing  do  any  good  ?  The 
persons  who  suggest  this  objection  of  course  think  that  there 
are  some  projects  and  undertakings  that  do  good;  and  I 
should  therefore  like  to  have  the  idea  of  good  explained,  and 
analyzed,  and  run  out  to  its  elements.  When  this  is  done, 
if  I  do  not  demonstrate,  in  about  two  minutes,  that  the  mon- 
ument does  the  same  kind  of  good  that  any  thing  else  does, 


358       THE  BUNKER  HILL  MONUMENT. 

I  will  consent  that  the  huge  blocks  of  granite,  already  laid, 
should  be  reduced  to  gravel,  and  carted  off  to  fill  up  the  mill 
pond ;  for  that  I  suppose  is  one  of  the  good  things.  Does  a 
railroad  or  canal  do  good  ?  Answer,  Yes.  And  how  ?  It, 
facilitates  intercourse,  opens  markets,  and  increases  the 
wealth  of  the  country.  But  what  is  this  good  for  ?  Why, 
individuals  prosper  and  get  rich.  And  what  good  does  that 
do  ?  Is  mere  wealth,  as  an  ultimate  end,  —  gold  and  silver, 
without  an  inquiry  as  to  their  use,  —  are  these  a  good  ?  Cer- 
tainly not.  I  should  insult  this  audience  by  attempting  to 
prove  that  a  rich  man,  as  such,  is  neither  better  nor  happier 
than  a  poor  one.  But  as  men  grow  rich,  they  live  better. 
Is  there  any  good  in  this,  stopping  here  ?  Is  me*-e  animal 
life  —  feeding,  working,  and  sleeping  like  an  ox  —  entitled  to 
be  called  good?  Certainly  not.  But  these  improvements 
increase  the  population.  And  what  good  does  that  do? 
Where  is  the  good'  in  counting  twelve  millions,  instead  of  six, 
of  mere  feeding,  working,  sleeping  animals?  There  is  then 
no  good  in  the  mere  animal  life,  except  that  it  is  the  physical 
basis  of  that  higher  moral  existence,  which  resides  in  the 
soul,  the  heart,  the  mind,  the  conscience ;  in  good  principles, 
good  feelings,  and  the  good  actions  (and  the  more  disinter- 
ested, the  more  entitled  to  be  called  good)  which  flow  from 
them.  Now,  sir,  I  say  that  generous  and  patriotic  sentiments, 
sentiments  which  prepare  us  to  serve  our  country,  to  live  for 
our  country,  to  die  for  our  country,  —  feelings  like  those 
which  carried  Prescott,  and  Warren,  and  Putnam  to  the  battle- 
field, are  good,  —  good,  humanly  speaking,  of  the  highest 
order.  It  is  good  to  have  them,  good  to  encourage  them, 
good  to  honor  them,  good  to  commemorate  them; — and 
whatever  tends  to  animate  and  strengthen  such  feelings,  does 
as  much  right  down  practical  good  as  filling  up  low  grounds 
and  building  railroads.  This  is  my  demonstration.  I  wish, 
sir,  not  to  be  misunderstood.  I  admit  the  connection  between 
enterprises  which  promote  the  physical  prosperity  of  the 
country  and  its  intellectual  and  moral  improvement ;  but  I 
maintain  that  it  is  only  this  connection  that  gives  these  enter- 
prises all  their  value ;  and  that  the  same  connection  gives  a 


THE  BUNKER  HILL  MONOMENT.       359 

like  value  to  every  thing  else  which,  through  the  channel  of 
the  senses,  the  taste,  or  the  imagination,  warms  and  elevates 
the  heart. 

But  we  are  told  that  books  will  do  all  this ;  that  history 
will  record  the  exploits  we  would  commemorate,  and  carry 
them,  with  the  spot  on  which  they  were  acted  out,  down  to 
the  latest  posterity.  Even  my  worthy  friend  who  has  just 
addressed  us,  although  I  am  sure  he  agrees  with  me  in  sub- 
stance, and  although  I  admit  the  superior  efficacy  of  the  art 
of  printing  over  that  of  writing,  in  perpetuating  the  remem- 
brance of  the  past,  —  yet  seemed  to  me  to  give  a  little  too 
much  weight  to  this  objection.  I  am  inclined  to  doubt 
whether  it  be  sound  in  any  sense ;  I  am  confident  it  is  not 
to  the  extent  to  which  it  is  made.  That  history  will  preserve 
the  memory  of  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  I  certainly  do  not 
doubt ;  but  that  history  alone,  without  sensible  monuments, 
would  preserve  the  knowledge  of  the  identity  of  the  spot,  is 
not  so  certain.  The  fame  of  the  immortal  plain  of  Troy, 
commemorated  by  the  first  of  bards  in  time  and  renown,  is 
coeval  with  history,  and  embalmed  in  its  earliest  pages.  But 
where  the  site  of  Troy  is,  I  have  the  best  reason  to  know,  is 
very  doubtful.  Books  have  surely  done  here  as  much  as  they 
can  ever  do.  A  man  may  seek  it  with  Strabo  in  his  head 
and  Homer  in  his  heart,  and  he  shall  not  find  it.  Even  the 
still  existing  natural  features  of  the  scene  are  not  sufficient 
to  identify  it.  The  "  broad  Hellespont  "  still  rolls  into  the 
JEgean.  Tenedos,  that  rich  and  most  famous  island  city,  — 
which,  when  ^Eneas  told  his  tale  to  Dido,  had  sunk  into  a 
treacherous  port,  —  still  keeps  its  station  in  front  of  the 
Troad ;  but  if  the  spot  where  Troy  stood  can  be  settled  at  all, 
it  is  principally  by  the  simple  mound  still  standing,  and,  as  is 
supposed,  erected  to  Achilles.  History  tells  us  of  the  mem- 
orable pass  of  Thermopylae,  where  Leonidas  and  his  brave 
associates  encountered  the  barbarous  invader.  I  have  searched 
in  vain  for  the  narrow  pass  between  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain and  the  sea.  It  is  gone.  Time,  which  changes  all 
things,  has  changed  the  great  natural  features  of  the  spot,  — 
in  which  not  merely  its  geographical,  but,  if  I  may  say  so,  its 


360       THE  BUNKER  HILL  MONUMENT. 

moral  identity  resided,  —  and  has  stretched  out  a  broad  plain 
in  its  place ;  but  a  rude  monumental  pile  still  remains  to 
designate  the  spot  where  the  Spartan  hero  fell.  History  tells 
us  of  the  field  of  Cannae,  where  Hannibal  overthrew  the 
Roman  consuls,  and  slaughtered  forty  thousand  of  their 
troops,  till  the  Aufidus  ran  blood.  Why,  sir,  you  cannot, 
with  your  Livy  in  your  hand,  retrace  the  locality.  History 
has  preserved  us  the  story  of  the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  where 
the  star  of  Caesar  prevailed  over  the  star  of  Pompey ;  a  battle 
which  fixed  the  fortunes  of  the  world  for  fifteen  centuries. 
It  is  impossible,  even  with  the  Commentaries  of  Caesar  for 
your  guide,  exactly  to  fix  the  spot  where  it  was  fought. 
History  tells  us  of  the  battle  of  Philippi,  where  Brutus  and 
Cassius,  and  with  them  the  last  hopes  of  Roman  liberty,  were 
cloven  down ;  but  historians  do  not  agree,  within  two  or 
three  hundred  miles,  as  to  the  precise  scene  of  the  action. 
Now,  sir,  I  trust  that  the  memory  of  Bunker  Hill  will  be 
preserved  in  history  as  long  as  that  of  Troy,  of  Thermopylae, 
of  Cannae,  of  Pharsalia,  or  of  Philippi ;  but  who  is  there  that 
would  not  wish  that  the  identity  of  this  precious  spot  should 
be  transmitted  with  its  name  to  posterity ;  so  that  when  our 
children,  in  after  times,  shall  visit  these  hallowed  precincts, 
they  may  know  and  be  assured  that  they  stand  upon  the  very 
sod  that  was  moistened  by  the  life-blood  of  the  martyrs  of 
that  eventful  day  ? 

But  I  know  and  admit  that  History  will  perform  her  duty 
to  those  who  fought  and  fell  at  Bunker  Hill.  Her  duty,  did 
I  say  ?  It  will  belong  to  her  most  glorious  prerogative  to 
record  their  deeds,  in  letters  of  light,  on  one  of  the  brightest 
pages  in  the  annals  of  freedom.  There,  when  the  tongues 
we  now  speak  are  forgotten,  they  will  be  read,  as  long  and  as 
widely  as  though  we 

"  Could  write  their  names  on  every  star  that  shines ; 
Engrave  their  story  on  the  living1  sky, 
To  be  forever  read  by  every  eye." 

But  history  would  do  this,  though  Bunker  Hill  were  sur- 
rendered to-morrow  to  the  pickaxe  and  the  spade,  and  were 


THE    BUNKER    HILL    MONUMENT.  361 

levelled  to  its  base ;  though  it  were  torn  from  its  roots  and 
cast  into  the  sea.  But,  sir,  though  books  will  do  what  they 
can,  they  cannot  do  all  things.  There  are  some  things  which 
they  cannot  do ;  no,  not  if  the  muse  of  history  herself,  in 
bodily  presentment,  should  take  her  stand  on  Bunker  Hill,  to 
describe  the  scene.  There  are  things  not  in  the  physical 
competence  of  books  to  effect.  Can  the  dead  letter  of  history 
present  you  the  glowing  lineaments  of  your  Washington,  as 
he  looks  down  upon  you  from  that  wall,  or  reproduce  to  you 
his  majestic  form  in  the  chiselled  marble  ?  Who  does  not 
gaze  with  delight  on  the  portrait  or  the  statue  of  the  father 
of  his  country,  where  Stuart,  and  Chantrey,  and  Canova 
have  wrought  up  the  silent  canvas  and  the  cold  marble  into 
life  and  beauty?  History  would  transmit  the  record  of  what 
he  was  and  what  he  did,  though  with  sacrilegious  hands  we 
should  tear  his  image  from  these  walls,  or  grind  his  statue  to 
powder.  But  shall  we,  for  this  reason,  even  while  we  stand 
within  the  light  of  his  benignant  countenance,  find  the  heart 
to  ask,  What  good  does  it  do  ? 

Sir,  the  man  that  asks  such  a  question  takes  a  partial  and 
superficial  view  of  his  own  nature  ;  he  belies  himself.  There 
is  an  original  element  in  our  natures,  —  a  connection  between 
the  senses,  the  mind,  and  the  heart,  —  implanted  by  the  Cre- 
ator for  pure  and  noble  purposes,  which  cannot  be  reasoned 
away.  You  cannot  argue  men  out  of  their  senses  and  feel- 
ings ;  and  after  you  have  wearied  yourself  and  others  by 
talking  about  books  and  history,  you  cannot  set  your  foot 
upon  the  spot  where  some  great  and  memorable  exploit  wa£ 
achieved,  especially  by  those  with  whom  you  claim  kindred, 
but  your  heart  swells  within  you.  You  do  not  now  reason  ; 
you  feel  the  inspiration  of  the  place.  Your  cold  philosophy 
vanishes,  and  you  are  ready  to  put  off  the  shoes  from  off 
your  feet,  for  the  place  whereon  you  stand  is  holy  ground. 
A  language  which  letters  cannot  shape,  which  sounds  can- 
not convey,  speaks,  not  to  the  understanding,  but  to  the 
heart. 

Such  a  spot  is  the  field  of  battle  on  Bunker  Hill,  already 
rescued  from  impending  desecration.     It  is  now  proposed  to 
VOL.  i.  46 


362  THE    BUNKER    HILL    MONUMENT. 

enclose  this  memorable  spot ;  to  restore  it  as  near  as  possible  to 
its  condition  on  the  seventeenth  of  June,  1775,  so  that  all  who 
shall  make  their  pilgrimage  to  it  may  be  able  to  retrace,  as  on 
a  map,  each  incident  of  the  eventful  day ;  to  plant  around  its 
borders  a  few  trees  from  our  native  forests ;  and  to  complete 
the  erection  of  the  monumental  shaft  already  begun,  simple 
in  its  taste,  grand  in  its  dimensions  and  height,  and  of  a  solid- 
ity of  structure  which  shall  defy  the  power  of  time. 

And  now  I  appeal  to  you,  Mr  Chairman  and  fellow-citizens, 
that  such  a  work,  on  such  a  spot,  is  in  accordance  with  the 
best  principles  and  purest  feelings  of  our  nature.  The  Amer- 
ican who  could  gaze  on  it  with  indifference,  does  not  deserve 
the  name  of  American.  I  would  say  of  such  a  one,  if  one 
could  be  found  so  cold  and  heartless,  in  the  language  of  the 
great  genius  of  the  age,  of  a  fancied  being  of  kindred  apa- 
thy,— 

"  Breathes  there  the  man  of  soul  so  dead  ? ..... 
If  such  there  breathe,  go,  mark  him  well ; 
For  him  no  minstrel  raptures  swell. 
Proud  though  his  title,  high  his  fame, 
Boundless  his  wealth,  as  wish  could  claim,— 
In  spite  of  title,  power,  and  pelf, 
The  wretch,  concentred  all  in  self, 
Living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown, 
And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 
To  the  vile  earth,  from  whence  he  sprung, 
Unwept,  unhonored,  and  unsung." 

I  think  I  can  bring  this  to  a  practical  issue  in  every  man's 
mind.  Is  there  any  one  who  hears  me,  and  will  figure  to 
himself  the  aspect  of  the  work,  as  it  will  appear  when  it  is 
completed; — who  will  place  himself,  in  imagination,  on  the 
summit  of  the  beautiful  hill  where  the  battle  was  fought ; 
look  out  upon  the  prospect  of  unsurpassed  loveliness  that 
spreads  before  him,  by  land  and  by  sea ;  the  united  features 
of  town  and  country ;  the  long  rows  of  buildings  and  streets 
in  the  city,  rising  one  above  another  upon  the  sides  of  her 
triple  hills ;  the  surrounding  sweep  of  country,  checked  with 
prosperous  villages;  on  one  side  the  towers  of  city  churches, 
on  the  other  the  long  succession  of  rural  spires;  the  rivers 


THE    BUNKER    HILL    MONUMENT.  363 

that  flow  on  either  side  to  the  sea ;  the  broad  expanse  of  the 
harbor  and  bay,  spotted  with  verdant  islands,  —  with  a  hun- 
dred ships  dancing  in  every  direction  over  the  waves;  the 
vessels  of  war,  keeping  guard  with  their  sleeping  thunders, 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill ;  —  and  on  its  top,  within  the  shade  of 
venerable  trees,  over  the  ashes  of  the  great  and  good,  the 
noble  obelisk,  rising  to  the  heavens,  and  crowning  the  mag- 
nificent scene  ;  —  is  there  any  one  who  will  look  at  this  pic- 
ture with  his  mind's  eye,  and  not  be  willing  to  contribute,  in 
proportion  to  his  means,  to  do  the  little  which  remains  to  be 
done  to  realize  it  ? 

There  have  been  times  when  I  have  desponded ;  but  I  do 
so  no  longer.     I  am  sure  the  work  will  be  done.     I  hear  good 
auguries  and  words  of  encouragement  on  all  sides.     I  cannot 
mistake,  when  I  think  I  perceive  that  the  true  spirit  is  awak 
ened. 

The  time  is  well  adapted  to  the  deed.  It  is  now  eight 
years  since  the  corner  stone  was  laid,  on  the  day  that  com- 
pleted the  half  century  from  the  battle.  Let  us  this  year 
urge  the  work  to  the  close,  with  the  completion  of  the  half 
century  since  the  termination  of  the  war.  If  we  celebrated 
the  grand  commencement  of  hostilities  in  the  foundation,  let 
us  bring  forth  the  top  stone,  in  happy  commemoration  of  the 
return  of  peace. 

I  believe,  sir,  as  I  have  already  said,  that  the  work  is  in  the 
proper  hands.  I  mean  no  fulsome  compliment ;  I  speak  what 
history  avouches,  that  the  mechanics,  as  a  class,  were  prime 
agents  in  all  the  measures  of  the  revolution.  It  was  with 
them  that  Warren,  and  Hancock,  and  Adams  took  counsel  in 
dark  and  trying  hours.  As  a  class,  they  contributed  their  full 
quota  to  the  armies  that  fought  the  battles  of  our  freedom  ;  — 
and  when  the  war  was  over,  and  it  remained  to  be  seen 
whether  we  had  reaped  any  substantial  fruit  from  the  con- 
test;  when  the  constitution  was  proposed, — when  it  was 
laboring,  —  when  it  was  in  imminent  danger  of  miscarriage, 
—  the  mechanics,  as  a  class,  put  their  shoulders  to  the  wheel, 
and  urged  it  into  action.  Who  so  fit  to  take  an  energetic 
and  decisive  lead  in  achieving  this  great  work  of  commemo- 
ration ? 


364       THE  BUNKER  HILL  MONUMENT. 

I  rejoice,  above  all,  in  this  day's  meeting ;  and  that  the 
doors  of  Faneuil  Hall  have  been  thrown  open  to  this  great 
and  patriotic  assemblage  ;  a  temple  worthy  the  offering.  The 
spirit  of  the  revolution  is  enshrined  within  its  columns ;  and 
old  Faneuil  Hall  seems  to  respond  to  old  Bunker  Hill ;  this, 
with  the  ancient  thunders  of  its  eloquence,  and  that  with  the 
thunders  of  the  battle ;  as  deep  calleth  unto  deep  with  the 
noise  of  its  waterspouts.  It  was  beneath  this  roof  that  the 
spirits  of  our  fathers  were  roused  to  that  lofty  enthusiasm, 
which  led  them  up,  calm  and  unresisting,  to  the  flaming  ter- 
rors of  the  mount  of  sacrifice ;  and  well  does  it  become  us, 
their  children,  to  gather  beneath  the  venerable  arches,  and 
resolve  to  discharge  the  debt  of  gratitude  and  duty  to  their 
memory. 

Two  of  the  periods  assigned  to  a  generation  of  men  have 
passed  away,  since  the  immortal  Warren  appeared  before  his 
fellow-citizens  on  the  memorable  anniversary  of  the  fifth  of 
March.  He  was,  at  that  time,  in  the  very  dawn  of  man- 
hood, and  as  you  behold  him  in  yonder  delineation  of  his 
person.  Amiable,  accomplished,  prudent,  energetic,  eloquent, 
brave,  —  he  united  the  graces  of  a  manly  beauty  to  a  lion 
heart,  a  sound  mind,  a  safe  judgment,  and  a  firmness  of  pur- 
pose which  nothing  could  shake.  At  the  period  to  which  I 
allude,  he  was  but  just  thirty-two  years  of  age  ;  so  young,  and 
already  the  acknowledged  head  of  the  cause  !  He  had  never 
seen  a  battle-field  ;  but  the  veterans  of  Louisburg  and  Que- 
bec looked  up  to  him  as  their  leader ;  and  the  hoary-headed 
sages  who  had  guided  the  public  councils  for  a  generation, 
came  to  him  for  advice.  Such  he  stood,  the  organ  of  the 
public  sentiment  on  the  occasion  just  mentioned.  At  the 
close  of  his  impassioned  address,  after  having  depicted  the 
labors,  hardships,  and  sacrifices,  endured  by  our  ancestors  in 
the  cause  of  liberty,  he  broke  forth  in  the  thrilling  words,  "  The 
voice  of  your  fathers'  blood  cries  to  you  from  the  ground !  " 
Three  years  only  passed  away;  the  solemn  struggle  came 
on ;  foremost  in  council,  he  also  was  foremost  in  the  battle- 
field, and  offered  himself  a  voluntary  victim,  the  first  great 
martyr  in  the  cause.  Upon  the  heights  of  Charlestown,  the 


THE    BUNKER    HILL    MONUMENT.  365 

last  that  was  struck  down,  he  fell  with  a  numerous  band  of 
kindred  spirits,  the  gray-haired  veteran,  the  stripling  in  the 
flower  of  youth,  who  had  stood  side  by  side  through  that 
dreadful  day,  and  fell  together,  like  the  beauty  of  Israel  on 
their  high  places ! 

And  now,  sir,  from  the  summit  of  Bunker  Hill  THE  VOICE 
OF  OUR  FATHERS'  BLOOD  CRIES  TO  us  FROM  THE  GROUND.  It 
rings  in  my  ears.  It  pleads  with  us,  by  the  sharp  agonies 
of  their  dying  hour ;  it  adjures  us  to  discharge  the  last  debt 
to  their  memory.  Let  us  hear  that  awful  voice  ;  and  resolve, 
before  we  quit  these  walls,  that  the  long-delayed  duty  shall 
be  performed;  that  the  work  SHALL  BE  DONE,  SHALL  BE 
DONE! 


TEMPERANCE/ 


MR  EVERETT  moved  the  following  resolution :  — 

Resolved,  That  while  we  behold,  with  the  highest  satisfaction,  the  success 
of  the  efforts  which  have  been  made  for  the  suppression  of  intemperance, 
we  consider  its  continued  prevalence  as  affording  the  str6ngest  motives  for 
persevering  and  increased  exertion ;  — 

And  then  spoke  substantially  as  follows :  — 

MR  PRESIDENT  : 

WHEN  I  look  around  me,  and  see  how  many  persons  there 
are  in  the  assembly  better  entitled  than  myself  to  the  privi- 
lege of  addressing  the  audience,  it  is  not  without  great  diffi- 
dence that  I  present  myself  before  you.  But  if  there  are 
occasions  on  which  it  is  our  duty  to  exert  ourselves,  in  sea- 
son and  out  of  season,  there  are  also  objects  we  should 
endeavor  to  promote,  in  place  and  out  of  place,  if,  indeed,  a 
man  can  ever  be  out  of  place,  who  rises  in  a  civilized  and 
Christian  community  to  speak  in  behalf  of  Temperance. 
Emboldened  by  this  reflection,  and  in  compliance  with  your 
request,  I  have  ventured  to  submit  the  resolution  which  I 
have  just  read,  and  of  which,  with  your  permission,  I  will 
briefly  enforce  the  purport.  And  most  sincerely  can  I  say 
that  I  never  raised  my  voice  with  a  clearer  conviction  of 
duty,  nor  a  more  cheerful  hope  of  the  ultimate  success  of  the 
cause. 

I  am  not  insensible  to  the  force  of  the   objection  which 

*  Speech  delivered  at  a  temperance  meeting  in  Salem,  on  the  14th  of 
June,  183& 


TEMPERANCE.  367 

meets  us  on  the  threshold,  —  I  mean  the  objection  taken  to  the 
multiplication  of  what  are  called  self-created  societies,  and, 
in  general,  to  the  free  development  and  application  of  the 
social  influence  which  have  been  witnessed  in  our  day.  But 
though  these  objections  have  been  urged  in  the  most  respec- 
table quarter,  I  have  never  been  able  to  feel  their  force.  I 
think  it  will  be  found,  on  full  examination  of  the  matter, 
that  societies  are  liable  to  precisely  the  same  objections  as 
the  action  of  individual  men ;  that  is,  they  are  liable  to  mis- 
application and  abuse.  But  I  believe  it  would  be  quite  as 
easy  for  a  powerful  and  ingenious  mind  to  point  out  the 
abuses  to  which  individual  effort  is  liable,  as  those  to  which 
societies  are  exposed ;  quite  as  easy  to  show  the  good  that 
might  have  been  and  has  not  been  done  ;  the  reforms  which 
might  have  been  and  have  not  been  accomplished ;  the  hap- 
piness which  might  have  been  and  has  not  been  enjoyed,  — 
had  the  social  principle  been  brought  out  in  a  still  earlier, 
ampler,  and  more  cordial  development.  In  a  word,  sir,  though 
I  am  not  over-fond  of  abstract  generalities  on  questions  of 
this  nature,  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  individual  principle, 
in  its  abuse,  tends  to  selfishness,  to  weakness,  to  barbarism, 
to  ignorance,  and  to  vice  ;  and  that  the  social  principle,  sub- 
ject also  to  its  abuses,  is  the  principle  of  benevolence,  civili- 
zation, knowledge,  genial  power,  and  expansive  goodness. 
On  this  point,  however,  it  would  be  safer  to  leave  theoretical 
axioms  aside.  It  is,  perhaps,  enough  to  insist  on  good  faith, 
good  temper,  and  sound  principle,  on  the  part  of  societies 
and  individuals.  Where  these  prevail,  there  is  little  danger 
of  abuse.  Where  they  are  absent,  it  little  matters  whether 
the  public  peace  is  disturbed,  the  cause  of  reform  obstructed, 
and  bad  passion  nourished  by  associations  or  individuals.  In 
fact,  in  the  complicated  structure  of  modern  society,  it  is 
impossible  to  draw  a  line  between  them.  It  is  powerful  indi- 
viduals that  move  societies ;  it  is  organized  multitudes  which 
give  power  to  individuals. 

If  there  is  any  cause  in  which  it  is  right  and  proper  to  em- 
ploy the  social  principle,  the  promotion  of  temperance  is  that 
cause ;  for  intemperance,  in  its  origin,  is  peculiarly  a  social 


368  TEMPERANCE. 

vice.  Although,  in  its  progress,  men  may  creep  away,  from 
shame,  to  indulge  the  depraved  appetite  in  secret,  yet  no  man. 
m  a  state  of  civilization,  is  born,  I  imagine,  with  a  taste  so 
unnatural,  that  he  would,  without  the  inducement  of  society, 
seek  an  intoxicating  liquor,  in  the  outset,  for  his  ordinary  or 
frequent  drink.  It  is  usually  tasted  for  the  first  time  as  the 
pledge  of  hospitality,  and  the  bond  of  good  fellowship.  Idle 
men,  who  meet  casually  together,  —  with  kind  feelings 
towards  each  other, — ask  each  other  to  step  into  the  dram- 
shop and  "  take  something  to  drink,"  for  want  of  any  thing 
else  to  say  or  do ;  and  there  they  swallow  the  liquid  poison 
"  to  each  other's  health."  The  social  circle,  the  stated  club, 
the  long-protracted  sitting  at  the  board,  on  public  occasions, 
the  midnight  festivities  of  private  assemblies,  —  these,  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  teach  men  the  fatal  alphabet  of  intem- 
perance ;  surprise  them  into  their  first  excesses ;  break  down 
the  sense  of  shame ;  establish  a  sympathy  of  conscious 
frailty ;  and  thus  lead  them  on,  by  degrees,  to  habitual,  and 
at  length  craving,  solitary,  and  fatal  indulgence.  The  vice 
of  intemperance,  then,  is  social  in  its  origin,  progress,  and 
aggravation  ;  and  most  assuredly  authorizes  us,  by  every  rule 
of  reason  and  justice,  in  exerting  the  whole  strength  of  the 
social  principle  in  the  way  of  remedy. 

If  it  were  possible  to  entertain  a  doubt  on  this  point,  as  a 
matter  of  theory,  that  doubt  would  be  removed  by  the  safe 
test  of  experience.  The  maxims  of  temperance  are  not  new ; 
they  are  as  old  as  Christianity  ;  as  old  as  any  of  the  inculca- 
tions of  personal  and  social  duty.  Every  other  instrument 
of  moral  censure  had  been  tried,  in  the  case  of  intemperance, 
as  in  that  of  other  prevailing  errors,  vices,  and  crimes.  The 
law  had  done  something  ;  the  press  had  done  something  ;  the 
stated  ministrations  of  religion  had  done  something ;  but  all 
had  done  but  little ;  and  intemperance  had  reached  a  most 
alarming  degree  of  prevalence.  At  length  the  principle  of 
association  was  applied ;  societies  were  formed,  meetings 
were  held,  public  addresses  made,  information  collected  and 
communicated,  pledges  mutually  given,  the  minds  of  men 
excited,  and  their  hearts  warmed,  by  comparison  of  opinions 


TEMPERANCE.  369 

by  concert  and  sympathy ;  and  within  the  space  of  twenty 
years,  of  which  not  more  than  ten  have  been  devoted  to  stren- 
uous effort,  a  most  signal  and  unexampled  reform  has  been 
achieved.  The  bubbling,  and,  as  it  seemed,  perennial  foun- 
tains of  this  vice  have,  in  many  cases,  been  dried  up.  The 
example  alluded  to  by  the  gentleman  who  has  already  ad- 
dressed us,  (Dr  Pierson,)  of  villages  absolutely  regenerated, 
is  by  no  means  a  solitary  one.  The  aspect  of  many  entire 
communities  has  been  changed,  and  an  incalculable  amount 
of  vice  and  woe  has  been  prevented.  The  statistical  facts 
publicly  brought  out  at  the  National  Temperance  Convention, 
lately  held  in  Philadelphia,  abundantly  sustain  this  proposi- 
tion. 

But  if  we  are  encouraged  to  continued  and  persevering 
efforts  by  the  success  which  has  thus  far  crowned  the  cause, 
we  ought  to  be  still  more  so,  by  reflecting  upon  the  extent  to 
which  the  evil  still  rages.  If  we  are  to  obey  the  injunction 
of  the  Roman  moralist,  and  "  think  nothing  done  while  aught 
remains  to  do,"  what  new  motives  to  zealous  exertion  ought 
we  not  to  find  in  the  fact,  that  though  much  has  been  done, 
much,  very  much,  remains  to  be  effected  ?  I  have  recently 
seen  it  stated,  on  the  authority  of  the  highly  respectable 
warden  of  the  state's  prison  in  Maine,  that  "  three  fourths  of 
all  the  convicts  in  that  establishment  were  led  to  the  commis- 
sion of  the  crimes  for  which  they  are  now  suffering  imprison- 
ment, by  intemperance,"  in  most  cases  directly,  in  others  more 
remotely.  There  are  many  gentlemen  present,  no  doubt, 
able  to  form  an  opinion  entitled  to  full  confidence,  whether 
this  would  be  an  over-estimate  for  the  other  states  in  the 
Union.  I  am  inclined,  myself,  to  think  that  it  is  not.  If 
we  carry  the  inquiry  a  little  farther,  from  our  state  prisons  to 
our  county  jails  and  houses  of  correction,  I  am  disposed  to 
believe  that  the  same  proportion  also  of  their  inmates  is 
brought  within  their  walls  by  intemperance.  It  is  well  known 
that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  small  debts  collected,  or  at- 
tempted to  be  collected,  by  the  law,  are  for  spirituous  liquors  ; 
and  that  the  least  evil  this  liquor  has  done  its  consumers, 
has  been  to  bring  them  within  the  poor  debtors'  ward  of  a  jail. 
VOL.  i.  47 


370  TEMPERANCE 

If  we  pass  from  vice  to  pauperism,  we  shall  find  a  similar 
result.  Pauperism  is  another  of  the  greatest  public  burdens, 
and  is  at  this  moment  tasking  the  ingenuity  of  statesmen  and 
philanthropists  in  Europe  and  America,  as  a  great  and  grow- 
ing public  evil,  which  seems  to  derive  a  principle  of  increase 
from  the  measures  necessary  to  its  alleviation.  I  believe  we 
may  in  like  manner  set  down  three  fourths  of  the  pauperism 
which  prevails,  to  the  direct  or  remote  influence  of  intem- 
perance. In  fact,  intemperance  is  peculiarly  a  principle  of 
pauperism  ;  more  directly  so  than  of  crime,  though  it  tends 
strongly  enough  to  crime.  But  every  man  who  depends  upon 
his  industry  for  his  support  and  that  of  his  family,  by  becom- 
ing intemperate  unavoidably  becomes  a  pauper.  His  strength 
and  health  are  impaired,  his  energies  stupefied,  his  earnings 
squandered,  his  credit  and  character  sacrificed,  —  all  around 
him,  except  those  who  are  unfortunately  bound  to  him  by 
ties  that  cannot  be  broken,  are  repelled, — and  the  man  sinks 
into  pauperism  almost  as  a  matter  of  course.  He  cannot  be 
rescued. 

But  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  that,  in  addition  to  the  crimes 
which  people  our  prisons,  in  addition  to  the  poverty  which 
seeks  a  refuge  in  the  alms-house,  there  is  an  untold  amount 
both  of  want  and  vice  in  the  world,  which,  although  not 
exposed  to  the  public  view,  either  in  the  prisons  or  poor- 
houses,  exists,  and  inflicts  the  most  cruel  sufferings  and 
sorrows  on  a  large  part  of  the  human  family  ;  and,  of  this 
vice  and  want,  a  very  large  proportion  is  produced  by  intem- 
perance. Take  the  case  of  a  man  in  easy  circumstances,  in 
town  or  country,  of  intemperate  habits,  but  yet  retaining  self- 
control  enough  to  manage  his  property,  and  honesty  enough 
to  keep  out  of  jail.  This  man,  of  course,  will  be  neither  a 
convict  nor  a  pauper  :  on  the  contrary,  he  may  fill  what  is 
called  a  respectable  station  in  society  ;  and  yet,  under  the 
influence  of  a  daily  indulgence  in  ardent  spirits,  he  may  be 
the  irery  tyrant  of  his  household ;  never  pleased,  never  soothed, 
never  gratified,  when  the  utmost  has  been  done  by  every  body 
to  gratify  him  ;  often  turbulent  and  outrageous  ;  sometimes 
cruel ;  the  terror  of  those  whom  he  is  bound  by  every  law  of 


TEMPERANCE.  371 

God  and  man  to  protect ;  the  shame  of  those  whom  nature 
teaches  to  reverence  and  love  him.  Such  a  man  does  not  fall 
into  the  clutches  of  the  law  ;  but,  in  a  moral  point  of  view, 
I  deem  him  much  more  criminal  than  the  ignorant,  weak- 
minded,  needy,  sorely  tempted  creature,  who  cannot  resist 
the  temptation  of  passing  a  forged  bank  note,  for  which  he  is 
sentenced  for  two  or  three  years  to  the  state's  prison.  Such 
a  man  does  not  take  refuge  in  the  alms-house,  nor  drive  his 
family  to  it ;  but  the  coarsest  and  hardest  bread  that  is  broken 
within  its  walls  is  a  dainty,  compared  with  the  luxuries  of  his 
cheerless  table. 

Then,  as  to  poverty.  I  believe  the  poverty  out  of  the 
alms-house,  produced  by  intemperance,  is  greater,  in  the 
amount  of  suffering  which  it  occasions,  than  the  poverty  in 
the  alms-house.  To  the  victims  of  drunkenness  whom  it  has 
conducted  to  the  alms-house,  one  bitter  ingredient  of  the  cup 
is  spared.  The  sense  of  shame,  and  the  struggles  of  honest 
pride,  are  at  length  over.  But  take  the  case  of  a  person 
whose  family  is  dependent  on  the  joint  labor  of  its  heads. 
Suppose  the  man  a  hard-working  mechanic  or  farmer,  the 
woman  an  industrious  housewife,  and  the  family  supported 
by  their  united  labor,  frugality,  and  diligence.  The  man,  as 
the  phrase  is,  "  takes  to  drink."  What  happens  ?  The  im- 
mediate consequence  is,  that  the  cost  of  the  liquor  which  he 
consumes  is  taken  from  the  fund  which  was  before  barely 
adequate  for  their  support.  They  must,  therefore,  reduce 
some  other  part  of  their  expenditure.  They  have  no  lux- 
uries ;  and  must,  accordingly,  pinch  in  the  frugal  comforts 
and  necessaries  of  life,  in  wholesome  food,  in  decent  clothing, 
in  fuel,  in  the  education  of  the  children.  As  the  habit  of 
excess  increases,  there  must  be  more  and  more  of  this  melan- 
choly retrenchment.  The  old  clothes,  already  worn  out, 
must  be  worn  longer  ;  the  daily  fare,  none  too  good  at  the 
beginning,  becomes  daily  more  meagre  and  scanty  ;  the  leak 
in  the  roof,  for  want  of  a  nail,  a  shingle,  or  a  bit  of  board, 
grows  wider  every  winter  ;  the  number  of  panes  of  broken 
glass,  whose  place  is  poorly  supplied  with  old  hats  and  rags, 
daily  increases ;  but  not  so  the  size  of  the  unreplenished 


TEMPEilANCB. 

wood-pile.  Before  long,  the  children  are  kept  from  school, 
for  want  of  books  and  clothing  ;  and,  at  length,  the  wretched 
family  are  ashamed  to  show  their  sordid  tatters  in  the  church, 
on  the  Sabbath  day.  Meantime,  the  fund  for  the  support 
of  the  family,  the  labor  of  its  head,  although  burdened 
with  a  constantly  growing  charge  for  liquor,  is  diminished , 
in  consequence  of  the  decline  of  his  health,  strength,  and 
energy.  He  is  constantly  earning  less  ;  and,  of  what  he 
earns,  constantly  consuming  more  unproductively  —  destruc- 
tively. Let  this  process  proceed  a  year  or  two,  and  see  to 
what  they  are  reduced,  and  how  poverty  passes  into  crime. 
Look  into  his  hovel,  —  for  such,  by  this  time,  it  is,  —  when 
he  comes  home  on  Saturday  evening  ;  —  the  wages  of  his 
week's  labor  already  squandered  in  excess.  Not  wholly  in- 
toxicated, he  is  yet  heated  with  liquor,  and  craves  more. 
Listen  to  the  brutal  clamors,  accompanied  by  threats  and 
oaths,  with  which  he  demands  of  his  family  the  food  which 
they  have  been  able  to  procure  neither  for  themselves  nor 
him.  See  the  poor,  grown-up  children,  —  boys  and  girls, 
perhaps  young  men  and  women,  old  enough  to  feel  the  shame 
as  well  as  the  misery  of  their  heritage,  —  without  a  tinge  of 
health  upon  their  cheeks,,  without  a  spark  of  youthful  cheer- 
fulness in  their  eyes,  silent  and  terrified,  creeping  supperless, 
for  the  night,  to  their  wretched  garret,  to  escape  outrage, 
curses,  and  blows,  from  the  author  of  their  being.  Watch 
the  heart-broken  wife,  as,  with  a  countenance  haggard  with 
care  arid  woe,  she  seeks  in  vain  to  supply  the  wants  of  a  half- 
starved,  sickly,  shrieking  babe,  out  of  the  fountain  which 
hunger,  and  ill-usage,  and  despair  have  exhausted ;  and  then 
return  in  the  morning,  and  find  her  blood  and  the  infant's  wet 
upon  the  hearth-stone.*  Do  I  paint  from  the  imagination,  or 
do  I  paint  from  nature  ?  Am  I  sporting  with  your  feelings ;  or 
might  I  heighten  the  picture,  and  yet  spare  you  many  a  heart- 
sickening  trait  from  real  life  ? 

In  a  word,  sir,  when  we  contemplate  intemperance  in  all 
its  bearings  and  effects  on  the  condition  and  character  of  men, 

*  Facts  like  those  stated  were  disclosed  in  a  criminal  trial,  a  short  time 
before  the  delivery  of  this  address. 


TEMPERANCE.  373 

I  believe  we  shall  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  the  great- 
est evil  which,  as  beings  of  a  compound  nature,  we  have  to 
fear ;  the  greatest,  because  striking  directly  at  the  ultimate 
principle  of  the  constitution  of  man.  Let  us  contemplate 
this  point  a  moment,  for  within  it  is  comprehended,  if  I 
mistake  not,  the  whole  philosophy  of  this  subject.  Our  life 
exists  in  a  mysterious  union  of  the  corporeal  and  intellectual 
principles,  an  alliance  of  singular  intimacy,  as  well  as  of 
strange  contrast,  between  the  two  extremes  of  being.  In 
their  due  relation  to  each  other,  and  in  the  rightful  discharge 
of  their  respective  functions,  I  do  not  know  whether  the  pure 
ethereal  essence  itself  (at  least  as  far  as  we  can  comprehend 
it,  which  is  but  faintly)  ought  more  to  excite  our  admiration 
than  this  most  wondrous  compound  of  spirit  and  matter.  I 
do  not  know  that  it  is  extravagant  to  say  that  there  is  as 
signal  a  display  of  the  divine  skill  in  linking  thoue  intellec- 
tual powers,  which  are  the  best  image  of  the  Divinity,  with 
the  forms  and  properties  of  matter,  as  in  the  creation  of  orders 
of  beings  purely  disembodied  and  spiritual.  When  I  contrast 
the  dull  and  senseless  clod  of  the  valley,  in  its  unanimated 
state,  with  the  curious  hand,  the  glowing  cheek,  the  beaming 
eye,  the  discriminating  sense  which  dwells  in  a  thousand 
nerves,  I  feel  the  force  of  that  inspired  exclamation  —  "I  am 
fearfully  and  wonderfully  made  !  "  And  when  I  consider  the 
action  and  reaction  of  soul  and  body  on  each  other,  the 
impulse  given  to  volition  from  the  senses,  and  again  to  the 
organs  by  the  will ;  when  I  reflect  how  thoughts  —  so 
exalted  that,  though  they  comprehend  all  else,  the  laws  of 
their  own  existence  are  incomprehensible — are  yet  able  to 
take  a  shape  in  the  material  air,  to  issue  and  travel  from  one 
sense  in  one  man  to  another  sense  in  another  man,  —  so  that, 
as  the  words  drop  from  my  lips,  the  secret  chambers  of  the 
soul  are  thrown  open,  and  its  invisible  ideas  made  manifest. — 
I  am  lost  in  wonder.  If  to  this  I  add  the  reflection,  how  the 
world  and  its  affairs  are  governed,  the  face  of  nature  changed, 
oceans  crossed,  continents  settled,  families  of  men  gathered 
and  kept  together  for  generations,  and  monuments  of  power, 
wisdom,  and  taste  erected,  which  last  for  ages  after  the  hands 


374  TEMPERANCE. 

that  reared  them  have  turned  to  dust,  and  all  this  by  tho 
regency  of  that  fine  intellectual  principle  which  sits  modestly 
concealed  behind  its  veil  of  clay,  and  moves  its  subject 
organs,  I  find  no  words  to  express  my  admiration  of  the  union 
of  mind  and  matter  by  which  these  miracles  are  wrought. 
Who  can  thus  contemplate  the  wonder,  the  beauty,  the  vast 
utility,  the  benevolence,  the  indescribable  fitness  of  this 
organization,  and  not  feel  that  this  vice  of  intemperance, 
which  aims  directly  to  destroy  it,  is  the  arch-abomination  of  our 
natures ;  tending  not  merely  to  create  a  conflict  between  the 
nicely  adjusted  principles,  but  to  assure  the  triumph  of  that 
which  is  low,  base,  sensual,  and  earthly,  over  the  heavenly  and 
pure ;  to  convert  this  so  curiously  organized  frame  into  a  dis- 
ordered, crazy  machine,  and  to  drag  down  the  soul  to  the 
slavery  of  grovelling  lusts  ? 

In  the  first  place,  there  is  the  shameful  abuse  of  the  boun- 
ties of  Providence,  which,  after  making  the  substantial  provi- 
sion for  the  supply  of  our  daily  wants,  —  after  spreading  out 
the  earth,  with  its  vegetable  stores,  as  a  great  table  for  our 
nutriment,  and  appointing  the  inferior  animals  for  our  solid 
food,  —  was  pleased,  as  it  would  seem,  of  mere  grace  and 
favor,  to  add  unnumbered  cordial  spirits  to  gratify  and  cheer 
us  —  sweet  waters  and  lively  spices  ;  to  fill  the  fibres  of  the 
cane  with  its  luscious  sirups,  the  clusters  of  the  vine  with  its 
cooling  juices,  and  a  hundred  aromatic  leaves,  berries,  and 
fruits,  with  their  refreshing  and  reviving  essences ;  and  even 
to  infuse  into  the  poppy  an  anodyne  against  the  sharpest  pains 
our  frail  flesh  is  heir  to,  —  I  say,  it  is  the  first  aggravation  of 
the  sin  of  intemperance,  that  it  seizes  on  all  these  kind  and 
bountiful  provisions,  and  turns  them  into  a  source,  not  of 
comfort  and  health,  but  of  excess;  indecently  revelling  at 
the  modest  banquet  of  nature,  shamefully  surfeiting  at  the 
sober  table  of  Providence,  and  converting  every  thing  that 
has  a  life  and  power,  alike  the  exhilarating  and  the  soothing, 
the  stimulant  and  the  opiate,  into  one  accursed  poison. 

Next  come  the  ravages  of  this  all-destroying  vice  on  the 
health  of  its  victims.  You  see  them  resolved,  as  it  were,  to 
anticipate  the  corruption  of  their  natures.  They  cannot  wait 


TEMPERANCE.  375 

to  get  sick  and  die.  They  think  the  worm  is  slow  in  his 
approach  and  sluggish  at  his  work.  They  wish  to  reconvert 
the  dust,  before  their  hour  comes,  into  its  primitive  deformity 
and  pollution.  My  friend,  who  spoke  before  me,  (Dr  Pierson,) 
called  it  a  partial  death.  I  would  rather  call  it  a  double 
death,  by  which  they  drag  about  with  them,  above  the  grave, 
a  mass  of  diseased,  decaying,  aching  clay.  They  will  not 
only  commit  suicide,  but  do  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  the 
witnesses  and  conscious  victims  of  the  cruel  process  of  self- 
murder  ;  doing  it  by  degrees,  by  inches  ;  quenching  the  sight, 
benumbing  the  brain,  laying  down  the  arm  of  industry  to  be 
cut  off;  and  changing  a  fair,  healthy,  robust  frame  for  a 
shrinking,  suffering,  living  corpse,  with  nothing  of  vitality 
but  the  power  of  suffering,  and  with  every  thing  of  death 
but  its  peace. 

Then  follows  the  wreck  of  property,  —  the  great  object  of 
worldly  pursuit ;  the  temporal  ruin,  which  comes,  like  an 
avenging  angel,  to  waste  the  substance  of  the  intemperate  ; 
which  crosses  their  threshold,  commissioned,  as  it  were,  to 
plague  them  with  all  the  horrors  of  a  ruined  fortune  and 
blasted  prospect ;  and  passes  before  their  astonished  sight, 
in  the  dread  array  of  affairs  perplexed,  debts  accumulated, 
substance  squandered,  honor  tainted,  wife,  children  cast  out 
upon  the  mercy  of  the  world,  and  he  who  should  have  been 
their  guardian  and  protector  dependent  for  his  unearned  daily 
bread  on  those  to  whom  he  is  a  burden  and  a  curse. 

Bad  as  all  this  is,  much  as  it  is,  it  is  neither  the  greatest 
nor  the  worst  part  of  the  aggravations  of  the  crime  of  intem- 
perance. It  produces  consequences  of  still  more  awful 
moment.  It  first  exasperates  the  passions,  and  then  takes  off 
from  them  the  restraints  of  the  reason  and  will ;  maddens 
and  then  unchains  the  tiger,  ravening  for  blood ;  tramples  all 
the  intellectual  and  moral  man  under  the  feet  of  the  stimu- 
lated clay ;  lays  the  understanding,  the  kind  affections,  and 
the  conscience  in  the  same  grave  with  prosperity  and  health ; 
and  having  killed  the  body,  kills  the  soul ! 

Such,  faintly  described,  is  the  vice  of  intemperance.  Such 
it  still  exists  in  our  land  ;  checked,  and,  as  we  hope,  declin- 


376  TEMPERANCE. 

ing,  but  still  prevailing  to  a  degree  which  invites  all  our  zeai 
for  its  effectual  suppression.  Such  as  I  have  described  it,  it 
exists,  I  fear,  in  every  city,  in  every  town,  in  every  village 
in  our  country.  Such  and  so  formidable  is  its  power.  But 
I  rejoice  in  the  belief  that  an  antagonist  principle  of  equal 
power  has  been  brought  into  the  field.  Public  opinion,  in 
all  its  strength,  is  enlisted  against  it.  Men,  that  agree  in 
nothing  else,  unite  in  this.  Religious  divisions  are  healed 
and  party  feuds  forgotten  in  this  good  cause.  Individuals 
and  societies,  private  citizens  and  the  government,  have  joined 
in  waging  war  against  intemperance ;  and,  above  all,  the 
press  —  the  great  engine  of  reform  — is  thundering,  with  all 
its  artillery,  against  it.  It  is  a  moment  of  great  interest,  and 
also  of  considerable  delicacy.  That  period  in  a  moral  reform 
in  which  a  great  evil,  that  has  long  passed  comparatively  un- 
questioned, is  overtaken  by  a  sudden  bound  of  public  opinion, 
is  somewhat  critical.  Individuals,  as  honest  as  their  neigh- 
bors, are  surprised  in  pursuits  and  practices  sanctioned  by 
the  former  standard  of  moral  sentiment,  but  below  the  mark 
of  the  reform.  Tenderness  and  delicacy  are  necessary  to 
prevent  such  persons,  by  mistaken  pride  of  character,  from 
being  made  enemies  of  the  cause.  In  our  denunciations  of 
the  evil,  we  must  take  care  not  to  include  those  whom  a 
little  prudence  might  bring  into  cordial  cooperation  with  us 
in  its  suppression.  Let  us,  sir,  mingle  discretion  with  our 
zeal ;  and  the  greater  will  be  our  success  in  this  pure  and 
noble  enterprise 


THE    SEVEN  YEARS'   WAR   THE    SCHOOL  OF    THE 
REVOLUTION.* 


FELLOW-CITIZENS  : 

I  HAVE  accepted,  with  great  cheerfulness,  the  invitation 
with  which  you  have  honored  me,  to  address  you  on  this 
occasion.  The  citizens  of  Worcester  did  not  wait  to  receive 
a  second  call,  before  they  hastened  to  the  relief  of  the  citi- 
zens of  Middlesex,  in  the  times  that  tried  men's  souls.  I 
should  feel  myself  degenerate  and  unworthy,  could  I  hesitate 
to  come,  and,  in  my  humble  measure,  assist  you  in  commem- 
orating those  exploits  which  your  fathers  so  promptly  and  so 
nobly  aided  our  fathers  in  achieving. 

Apprised  by  your  committee  that  the  invitation  which  has 
brought  me  hither  was  given  on  behalf  of  the  citizens  of 
Worcester,  without  distinction  of  party,  I  can  truly  say  that 
it  is  also,  in  this  respect,  most  congenial  to  my  feelings.  I 
have  several  times  had  occasion  to  address  my  fellow-citizens 
on  the  fourth  of  July  ;  and  sometimes  at  periods  when  the 
party  excitement  —  now  so  happily,  in  a  great  measure,  al- 
layed —  has  been  at  its  height ;  and  when  custom  and  publia 
sentiment  would  have  borne  me  out  in  seizing  the  opportu- 
nity of  inculcating  the  political  views  of  those  on  whose 
behalf  I  spoke.  But  of  no  such  opportunity  have  I  ever 
availed  myself.  I  have  never  failed,  as  far  as  it  was  in  my 
power,  to  lead  the  minds  of  those  whom  I  have  had  the  honor 
to  address  to  those  common  topics  of  grateful  recollection 
which  unite  the  patriotic  feelings  of  every  American.  It  has 
not  been  my  fault,  if  ever,  on  this  auspicious  national  anni- 

*  Oration  delivered  at  Worcester,  on  the  4th  of  July,  1833. 
VOL.  I.  48  (377) 


378  THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

versary,  a  single  individual  has  forgotten  that  he  was  a  brothe  r 
of  one  great  family,  while  he  has  recollected  that  he  was  a 
member  of  a  party. 

In  fact,  fellow-citizens,  I  deem  it  one  of  the  happiest  effects 
of  the  celebration  of  this  anniversary,  that,  when  undertaken 
in  the  spirit  which  has  animated  you  on  this  occasion,  it  has 
a  natural  tendency  to  soften  the  harshness  of  party,  which  I 
cannot  but  regard  as  the  great  bane  of  our  prosperity.  It  was 
pronounced  by  Washington,  in  his  valedictory  address  to  the 
people  of  the  United  States,  "  the  worst  enemy  of  popular 
governments ;  "  and  the  experience  of  almost  every  administra- 
tion, from  his  own  down,  has  confirmed  the  truth  of  the  remark. 
The  spirit  of  party  unquestionably  has  its  source  in  some  of 
the  native  passions  of  the  heart ;  and  free  governments  natu- 
rally furnish  more  of  its  aliment  than  those  under  which  the 
liberty  of  speech  and  of  the  press  is  restrained  by  the  strong 
arm  of  power.  But  so  naturally  does  party  run  into  ex- 
tremes, —  so  unjust,  cruel,  and  remorseless  is  it  in  its  ex- 
cess, —  so  ruthless  in  the  war  which  it  wages  against  private 
character,  —  so  unscrupulous  in  the  choice  of  means  for  the 
attainment  of  selfish  ends,  —  so  sure  is  it,  eventually,  to  dig 
the  grave  of  those  free  institutions  of  which  it  pretends  to  be 
the  necessary  accompaniment,  —  so  inevitably  does  it  end  in 
military  despotism  and  unmitigated  tyranny,  that  I  do  not 
know  how  the  voice  and  influence  of  a  good  man  could,  with 
more  propriety,  be  exerted,  than  in  the  effort  to  assuage  its 
violence. 

We  must  be  strengthened  in  this  conclusion,  when  we  con- 
sider that  party  controversy  is  constantly  showing  itself  as 
unreasonable  and  absurd  as  it  is  unamiable  and  pernicious. 
If  we  needed  illustrations  of  the  truth  of  this  remark,  we 
should  not  be  obliged  to  go  far  to  find  them.  In  the  unex- 
pected turns  that  continually  occur  in  affairs,  events  arise, 
which  put  to  shame  the  selfish  adherence  of  resolute  cham- 
pions to  their  party  names.  No  election  of  president  has 
ever  been  more  strenuously  contested  than  that  which 
agitated  the  country  the  last  year  ;  and  I  do  not  know  that 
party  spirit,  in  our  time  at  least,  has  ever  run  higher,  or  the 


THE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    EEVOLUTION.  379 

party  press  been  more  virulent  on  both  sides.  And  what  has 
followed  ?  The  election  was  scarcely  decided,  the  president 
thus  chosen  had  not  entered  upon  the  second  term  of  his 
office,  before  the  state  of  things  was  so  entirely  changed,  as 
to  produce,  in  reference  to  the  most  important  question  which 
has  engaged  the  attention  of  the  country  since  the  adoption 
of  the  constitution,  a  concert  of  opinion  among  those,  who, 
two  months  before,  had  stood  in  hostile  array  against  each 
other.  The  measures  adopted  by  the  president,  for  the  pres- 
ervation of  the  Union,  met  with  the  most  cordial  support,  in 
Congress  and  out  of  it,  from  those  who  had  most  strenuously 
opposed  his  election  ;  and  he,  in  his  turn,  depended  upon  that 
support,  not  only  as  auxiliary,  but  as  indispensable  to  his 
administration,  in  this  great  crisis.  And  what  do  we  now 
behold  ?  The  president  of  the  United  States  traversing  New 
England,  under  demonstrations  of  public  respect,  as  cordial 
and  as  united  as  he  would  receive  in  Pennsylvania  or  Ten- 
nessee ;  and  the  great  head  of  his  opponents  in  this  part  of 
the  country,  the  illustrious  champion  of  the  Constitution  in 
the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  welcomed  with  equal  cor- 
diality and  equal  unanimity,  by  men  of  all  names  and  parties, 
in  the  distant  west. 

And  what  is  the  cause  of  this  wonderful  and  auspicious 
change  ;  auspicious,  however  transitory  its  duration  may  un- 
fortunately prove  ?  That  cause  is  to  be  sought  in  a  princi- 
ple so  vital,  that  it  is  almost  worth  the  peril  to  which  the 
country's  best  interests  have  been  exposed,  to  see  its  existence 
and  power  made  manifest  and  demonstrated.  This  principle 
is,  that  the  union  of  the  states  —  which  has  been  in  danger  — 
must  at  all  hazards  be  preserved  ;  that  union,  which,  in  the 
same  parting  language  of  Washington  which  I  have  already 
cited,  "  is  the  main  pillar  in  the  edifice  of  our  real  inde- 
pendence, the  support  of  our  tranquillity  at  home,  our  peace 
abroad,  our  safety,  our  prosperity  ;  of  that  very  liberty  which 
we  so  highly  prize."  Men  have  forgotten  their  little  feuds 
in  the  perils  of  the  constitution.  The  afflicted  voice  of  the 
country,  in  its  hour  of  danger,  has  charmed  down  with  a 
sweet  persuasion  the  angry  passions  of  the  day ;  and  men 


380  THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

have  felt  that  they  had  no  heart  to  ask  themselves  the  ques- 
tion, whether  their  party  were  triumphant  or  prostrate  ;  when 
the  infinitely  more  momentous  question  was  pressing  upon 
them,  whether  the  Union  was  to  be  preserved  or  destroyed. 

In  speaking,  however,  of  the  preservation  of  the  Union  as 
the  great  and  prevailing  principle  in  our  political  system,  I 
would  not  have  it  understood  that  I  suppose  this  portion  of 
the  country  to  be  more  interested  in  it  than  any  other.  The 
intimation  which  is  sometimes  made,  and  the  belief  which 
hi  some  quarters  is  avowed,  that  the  Northern  States  have  a 
peculiar  and  a  selfish  interest  in  the  preservation  of  the 
Union,  —  that  they  derive  advantages  from  it  at  the  uncom- 
pensated  expense  of  other  portions,  —  I  take  to  be  one  of  the 
grossest  delusions  ever  propagated  by  men,  deceived  them- 
selves, or  willing  to  deceive  others.  I  know,  indeed,  that 
the  dissolution  of  the  Union  would  be  the  source  of  incal- 
culable injury  to  every  part  of  it ;  as  it  would,  in  great  like- 
lihood, lead  to  border  and  civil  war,  and  eventually  to  military 
despotism.  But  not  to  us  would  the  bitter  chalice  be  first 
presented.  This  portion  of  the  Union,  erroneously  sup- 
posed to  have  'a  peculiar  interest  in  its  preservation,  would 
be  sure  to  suffer,  no  doubt ;  but  it  would  also  be  among  the 
last  to  suffer  from  that  deplorable  event ;  while  that  portion 
which  is  constantly  shaking  over  us  the  menace  of  separa- 
tion, would  be  swept  with  the  besom  of  destruction  from  the 
moment  an  offended  Providence  should  permit  that  purpose 
to  reach  its  ill-starred  maturity. 

Far  distant  be  all  these  inauspicious  calculations.  It  is 
the  natural  tendency  of  celebrating  the  fourth  of  July,  to 
strengthen  the  sentiment  of  attachment  to  the  Union.  It 
carries  us  back  to  other  days  of  yet  greater  peril  to  our 
beloved  country,  when  a  still  stronger  bond  of  feeling  and 
action  united  the  hearts  of  her  children.  It  recalls  to  us  the 
sacrifices  of  those  who  deserted  all  the  walks  of  private 
industry,  and  abandoned  the  prospects  of  opening  life,  to 
engage  in  the  service  of  their  country.  It  reminds  us  of  the 
fortitude  of  those  who  took  upon  themselves  the  perilous 
responsibility  of  leading  the  public  councils  in  the  paths  of 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.      381 

levolution  ;  in  the  sure  alternative  of  that  success,  which  was 
all  but  desperate,  and  that  scaffold,  already  menaced  as  their 
predestined  fate  .if  they  failed.  It  calls  up,  as  it  were,  from 
the  beds  of  glory  and  peace  where  they  lie,  —  from  the  heights 
of  Charlestown  to  the  southern  plains.  —  the  vast  and  ven- 
erable congregation  of  those  who  bled  in  the  sacred  cause. 
They  gather  in  saddened  majesty  around  us,  and  adjure  us, 
by  their  returning  agonies  and  re-opening  wounds,  not  to 
permit  our  feuds  and  dissensions  to  destroy  the  value  of  that 
birthright  which  they  purchased  with  their  precious  lives. 

There  seems  to  me  a  peculiar  interest  attached  to  the  pres- 
ent anniversary  celebration.  It  is  just  a  half  century  since 
the  close  of  the  revolutionary  war.  It  is  the  jubilee  of  the 
restoration  of  peace  between  the  United  States  and  Great 
Britain.  It  has  been  sometimes  objected  to  these  anniver- 
sary celebrations,  that  they  are  calculated,  by  the  unavoidable 
train  of  remark  in  the  public  addresses  which  they  call  forth, 
to  perpetuate  an  unfriendly  feeling  towards  the  land  of  our 
fathers,  with  which  we,  to  our  mutual  benefit,  are  at  peace. 
Without  denying  that  this  celebration  may,  like  all  other  hu- 
man things,  have  been  abused  in  injudicious  hands  for  such  a 
purpose,  I  cannot,  nevertheless,  admit  that,  either  as  philan- 
thropists or  citizens  of  the  world,  we  are  required  to  renounce 
any  of  the  sources  of  an  honest  national  pride.  A  revolution 
like  ours  is  a  most  momentous  event  in  human  affairs.  His- 
tory does  not  furnish  its  parallel.  Characters  like  those  of 
our  fathers  —  services,  sacrifices,  and  sufferings  like  theirs  — 
form  a  sacred  legacy,  transmitted  to  our  veneration,  to  be 
cherished,  to  be  preserved  unimpaired,  and  to  be  handed  down 
to  after  ages.  Could  we  consent,  on  any  ot  casion,  to  deprive 
them  of  their  just  meed  of  praise,  we  should  prove  ourselves 
degenerate  children ;  and  we  should  be  guilty,  as  a  people, 
of  a  sort  of  public  and  collective  self-denial,  unheard  of  among 
nations  whose  annals  contain  any  thing  of  which  their  citi- 
zens have  reason  to  be  proud.  Our  brethren  in  Great  Britain 
teach  us  no  such  lesson.  In  the  zeal  with  which  they  nour- 
ish the  boast  of  a  brave  ancestry,  by  the  proud  recollections 
of  their  history,  they  have,  so  to  speak,  consecrated  their 


382        ,   THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

gallant  and  accomplished  neighbors,  the  French,  (from  whom 
they  also  are  originally  in  part  descended,)  as  a  sort  (f  nat- 
ural enemy,  an  object  of  hereditary  hostile  .feeling,  in  peace 
and  in  war.  That  it  could  be  thought  ungenerous  or 
unchristian  to  commemorate  the  exploits  of  the  Wellingtons, 
the  Nelsons,  or  the  Marlboroughs,  I  believe  is  an  idea  that 
never  entered  into  the  head  of  an  English  statesman  or 
patriot. 

But  at  the  same  time,  I  admit  it  to  be  not  so  much  the 
duty  as  the  privilege  of  an  American  citizen  to  acquit  this 
obligation  to  the  memory  of  his  fathers  with  discretion  and 
generosity.  It  is  true,  that  the  greatest  incident  of  our  his- 
tory, that  which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  our  most  important 
and  most  cherished  national  traditions,  is  the  revolutionary 
war.  But  it  is  not  the  less  true,  that  there  are  many  ties 
which  ought  to  bind  our  feelings  to  the  land  of  our  fathers. 
It  is  characteristic  of  a  magnanimous  people  to  do  justice 
to  the  merits  of  every  other  nation ;  especially  of  a  nation  with 
whom  we  have  been  at  variance  and  are  now  in  amity ;  and 
most  especially  of  a  nation  of  common  blood.  Where  are 
the  graves  of  our  fathers  ?  In  England.  The  school  of  the 
free  principles,  in  which,  as  the  last  great  lesson,  the  doctrine 
of  our  independence  was  learned,  —  where  did  it  sut  sist  ?  In 
the  hereditary  love  of  liberty  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  The 
great  names  which,  before  America  began  to  exist  for  civil- 
ization and  humanity,  immortalized  the  language  which  we 
speak,  and  made  our  mother  tongue  a  heart-stirring  dialect, 
which  a  man  is  proud  to- take  on  his  lips,  whithersoever  on 
the  face  of  the  earth  he  may  wander,  are  English.  If  it  be, 
in  the  language  of  Cowper,  — 

"praise  enough 

To  fill  the  ambition  of  a  private  man, 
That  Chatham's  language  is  his  mother  tongue, 
And  Wolfe's  great  name  compatriot  with  his  own,"  — 

let  no  American  forget  that  Wolfe  fell  on  the  soil  of  this  coun- 
try, with  some  of  the  best  and  bravest  of  New  England  by  his 
side ;  and  that  it  was  among  the  last  of  the  thrilling  excla- 


THE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  383 

mations,  with  which  Chatham  shook  the  House  of  Lords  — 
"  Were  I  an  American,  as  I  am  an  Englishman,  I  never  would 
lay  down  my  arms  ;  never,  never,  never !  " 

There  were,  indeed,  great  and  glorious  achievements  in 
America,  before  the  revolution,  in  which  the  colonies  and 
the  mother  country  were  intimately  and  honorably  associated. 
There  lived  brave  men  before  the  Agamemnons  of  seventy- 
six  ;  and,  thanks  to  the  recording  pen  of  history,  their  names 
are  not,  and  never  shall  be,  forgotten.  Nothing  but  the  noon- 
tide splendor  of  the  revolutionary  period  could  have  sufficed 
to  cast  into  comparative  forgetfulness  the  heroes  and  the 
achievements  of  the  old  French  war.  and  of  that  which  pre- 
ceded it  in  1744.  If  we  wished  an  effective  admonition  of 
the  unreasonableness  of  permitting  the  events  of  the  revolu- 
tion to  engender  a  feeling  of  permanent  hostility  in  our 
minds  towards  the  land  of  our  fathers,  we  might  find  it  in 
the  fact  that  the  war  of  independence  was  preceded  by  only 
twenty  years  by  that  mighty  conflict  of  the  Seven  Years' 
war,  in  which  the  best  blood  of  England  and  the  colonies 
was  shed  beneath  their  united  banners,  displayed  on  the 
American  soil,  and  in  a  cause  which  all  the  colonies,  and 
especially  those  of  New  England,  had  greatly  at  heart.  And 
this  observation  suggests  the  topic  to  which  I  beg  leave  to 
call  your  attention  for  the  residue  of  the  hour. 

It  will  not  be  expected  of  me,  on  this  occasion,  (which 
seems  more  appropriately  to  be  devoted  to  the  effusion  of 
kind  and  patriotic  feeling  than  to  labored  discussion,)  to  en- 
gage in  a  regular  essay ;  particularly  as  other  urgent  engage- 
ments have  left  me  but  a  very  brief  period  of  preparation 
for  my  appearance  before  you.  I  shall  aim  only,  out  of  the 
vast  storehouse  of  the  revolutionary  theme,  to  select  one  or 
two  topics,  less  frequently  treated  than  some  others,  but  not 
inappropriate  to  the  day.  Among  these  I  think  we  may  safely 
place  the  civil  and  military  education  which  the  country  had 
received  in  the  earlier  fortunes  of  the  colonies ;  the  great 
prcBparatio  libertatis,  which  had  fitted  out  our  fathers  to  reap 
the  harvest  of  independence  on  bloody  fields,  and  to  secure 


384  THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

and  establish  it  by  those  wise  institutions,  in  which  the  only 
safe  enjoyment  of  freedom  resides. 

This  subject,  in  its  full  extent,  would  be  greatly  too  com- 
prehensive for  the  present  occasion,  and  the  circumstances 
under  which  I  address  you.  I  shall  confine  myself  chiefly 
to  the  Seven  Years'  war,  as  connected  with  the  war  of  the 
revolution — a  subject  which  has  not,  perhaps,  received  all 
the  attention  which  it  merits.  The  influence  on  the  revolu- 
tionary struggle  of  the  long  civil  contest  which  had  been 
kept  up  with  the  crown,  and  the  effect  of  this  contest  in 
awakening  the  minds  of  men  in  the  colonies,  and  forming 
them  to  the  intelligent  and  skilful  defence  of  their  rights, 
have  been  often  enough  set  forth.  But  the  peculiar  and 
extraordinary  concurrence  of  facts  in  the  military  history  of 
the  colonies,  the  manner  in  which  the  moving  causes  of  the 
revolution  are  interwoven  with  the  great  incidents  of  the 
previous  wars,  deserve  a  particular  development.  If  I  mis- 
take not,  they  disclose  a  systematic  connection  of  events, 
which,  for  harmony,  interest,  and  grandeur,  are  well  worthy 
our  contemplation. 

When  America  was  first  approached  by  the  Europeans,  it 
was  in  the  occupancy  of  the  Indian  tribes ;  an  unhappy  race 
of  beings,  not  able,  as  the  event  has  proved,  to  stand  before  the 
advance  of  civilization  ;  feeble,  on  the  whole,  compared  with 
the  colonists,  when  armed  with  the  weapons  and  arts  of 
Europe  ;  but  yet  capable  of  carrying  on  a  most  harassing  and 
destructive  warfare  for  several  generations ;  particularly  after 
having  learned  the  use  of  fire-arms,  and  provided  themselves 
with  steel  tomahawks  and  scalping-knives  from  the  French 
and  English  colonists.  Between  the  two  latter  the  continent 
was  almost  equally  divided.  From  Nova  Scotia  to  Florida 
the  English  possessed  the  sea-coast.  From  the  St  Lawrence 
to  the  Mississippi  the  French  had  established  themselves  in 
the  interior.  The  Indian  tribes,  who  occupied  the  whole  line 
of  the  frontier,  and  the  intermediate  space  between  the  settle- 
ments, were  alternately  stimulated  by  the  two  parties  against 
each  other ;  but  more  extensively  and  effectively,  along  the 


THE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  385 

greater  part  of  the  line,  by  the  French  against  the  English, 
than  by  the  English  against  the  French.  With  every  war 
in  Europe,  between  England  and  France,  the  frontier  was  in 
flames,  from  the  Savannah  to  the  St  Croix  ;  and  down  to  so 
late  a  period  did  this  state  of  things  last,  that  I  have  noticed, 
within  eighteen  months,  the  death  of  an  aged  person  who 
was  tomahawked  by  the  Canadian  savages  on  their  last  incur- 
sion to  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut  River,  as  low  down  as 
Northampton.  There  were  periods  at  vrhich  the  expulsion 
of  the  English  from  the  continent  seemed  inevitable  ;  and  at 
other  times  the  French  empire  in  America  appeared  equally 
insecure.  But  it  was  plain  that  no  thought  of  independence 
could  suggest  itself,  and  no  plan  of  throwing  off  the  colonial 
yoke  could  prosper,  while  a  hostile  power  of  French  and 
Canadian  Indians,  exasperated  by  the  injuries  inflicted  and 
retaliated  for  a  hundred  years,  was  encamped  along  the  fron- 
tier. On  the  contrary,  the  habit,  so  long  kept  up,  of  acting 
in  concert  with  the  mother  country  against  their  French  and 
savage  neighbors,  was  one  of  the  strongest  ties  of  interest 
which  bound  the  colonies  to  the  crown. 

At  length,  in  the  year  1754,  the  conflicting  claims  of  the 
two  crowns  to  the  jurisdiction  of  various  portions  of  the 
Indian  territory,  belonging,  perhaps,  by  no  very  good  title  to 
either  of  them,  led  to  the  commencement  of  hostilities 
between  the  English  and  the  French,  in  different  parts  of 
the  colonies.  Among  the  measures  of  strength  which  were 
adopted  against  the  common  foe,  was  the  plan  of  uniting  the 
colonies  in  a  general  confederation,  not  dissimilar  to  that 
which  was  actually  formed  in  the  revolutionary  war.  It  is 
justly  remarked  by  the  historians,  as  a  curious  coincidence 
of  dates  and  events,  that,  on  the  fourth  of  July,  1754,  General 
Washington,  then  a  colonel  in  the  provincial  service,  in 
Virginia,  should  have  been  compelled  to  capitulate  to  the 
French,  at  Fort  Necessity,  and  that  Benjamin  Franklin,  as 
one  of  the  commissioners  assembled  at  Albany,  should  have 
put  his  name,  on  the  same  day,  to  the  abortive  plan  of  the 
confederation ;  and  that  on  the  very  same  day,  twenty-two 
years  afterwards,  General  Washington  should  be  found  at  the 
VOL.  i.  49 


386  THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

head  of  the  armies  of  independent  and  united  America,  and 
Franklin  in  the  Congress  at  Philadelphia,  among  the  authors 
and  signers  of  the  Declaration. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  necessary  elements  of  a  Union 
could  not  subsist  in  a  state  of  dependence  on  a  foreign  gov- 
ernment ;  and  the  failure  of  the  confederation  of  1754  is 
another  proof  that  our  Union  is  but  the  form  in  which  our 
independence  was  organized.  One  in  their  origin,  there  is 
little  doubt  that  they  will  continue  so  in  their  preservation. 
The  most  natural  event  of  a  secession  of  a  small  part  of  the 
Union  from  the  other  states  would  be  its  re-colonization  by 
Great  Britain.  It  was  only  the  United  States  which  were 
acknowledged  to  be  independent  by  Great  Britain,  or  declared 
to  be  independent  by  themselves. 

Two  years  after  the  period  last  mentioned,  namely,  in  1756, 
the  flames  of  the  war  spread  from  America  to  Europe,  where 
it  burst  forth  and  raged  to  an  extent  and  with  a  violence 
scarcely  surpassed  by  the  mighty  contests  of  Napoleon. 
The  Empress  of  Austria  and  Frederic  the  Great,  France  and 
Spain, — not  yet  humbled,  and  united  by  the  family  compact 
in  the  closest  alliance, — and  above  all,  England,  —  then  com- 
prehending within  her  dominions  the  colonies  that  now  form 
the  United  States,  and  at  last  roused  arid  guided  by  the  tow- 
ering genius  and  the  lion  heart  of  the  elder  Pitt, — plunged, 
with  all  their  resources,  into  the  conflict.  There  were  various 
subsidiary  objects  at  heart  with  the  different  powers ;  but  the 
great  prize  of  the  contest  between  England  and  France  was 
the  possession  of  America.  That  prize,  by  the  fortune  of 
war,  or  rather  by  that  Providence  which,  in  this  manner,  was 
preparing  the  way  for  American  independence,  was  adjudged 
to  the  arms  of  England.  The  great  work  was  accomplished, 
and  the  decisive  blow  was  struck,  when  Wolfe  fell,  in  the 
arms  of  victory,  on  the  Heights  of  Abraham  ;  furnishing  in  his 
fate  no  unapt  similitude  of  the  British  empire  in  America, 
which  that  victory  had  seemed  to  consummate.  As  Wolfe 
died  in  the  moment  of  triumph,  so  the  power  of  England 
on  this  continent  received  its  death-blow  in  the  event  that 
destroyed  its  rival. 


THE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  387 

It  is  curious  to  remark  how  instantly  this  effect  began  to 
manifest  itself.  Up  to  this  time,  the  utmost  political  energy 
of  the  colonies,  in  conjunction  with  that  of  the  mother  coun- 
try, had  been  required  to  maintain  a  foothold  on  the  continent. 
They  were  in  constant  apprehension  of  being  swept  away 
by  the  united  strength  of  the  French  and  Indians.  Their 
thoughts  had  never  wandered  beyond  the  frontier  line, 
marked  as  it  was,  in  its  whole  extent,  with  fire  and  blood. 
But  the  power  of  the  French  once  expelled  from  the  country, 
as  it  was,  with  a  trifling  exception  at  New  Orleans,  and  their 
long  line  of  strongholds  transferred  to  the  British  govern- 
ment, the  minds  of  men  immediately  moved  forward  into 
the  illimitable  space  that  seemed  opening  to  them.  A  polit- 
ical miracle  was  wrought ;  the  mountains  sunk,  the  valleys 
rose,  and  the  portals  of  the  west  were  burst  asunder.  The 
native  tribes  of  the  forest  still  roamed  the  interior;  but, 
in  the  imaginations  of  men,  they  had  derived  their  chief 
terror  from  the  alliance  with  the  French.  The  idea  did  not 
immediately  present  itself  to  the  minds  of  the  Americans, 
that  they  might,  in  like  manner,  be  armed  and  stimulated  by 
the  English  against  the  colonies,  whenever  a  movement 
towards  independence  should  require  such  a  check.  Hutch- 
inson  remarks  an  altered  tone  in  the  state  papers  of  Massa- 
chusetts from  this  period,  which  he  ascribes,  less  distinctly 
than  he  might,  to  the  same  cause.  Governor  Bernard,  on 
occasion  of  the  fall  of  Quebec,  congratulates  the  General 
Court  on  "  the  blessings  they  derive  from  their  subjection  to 
Great  Britain ;  "  and  the  council,  in  their  echo  to  the  speech, 
acknowledge  that  it  is  "  to  their  relation  to  Great  Britain  that 
they  owe  their  freedom  ;  "  and  the  same  historian  traces  the 
rise  of  a  vague  idea  of  "  independency  "  to  the  same  period 
and  the  same  influence  upon  the  imaginations  of  men  —  of 
the  removal  of  the  barrier  of  the  French  power. 

The  subversion  of  this  power  required,  or  was  thought  to 
require,. a  new  colonial  system.  Its  principles  were  few  and 
simple.  An  army  was  to  be  stationed,  and  a  revenue  raised, 
in  America.  The  army  was  to  enforce  the  collection  of  the 
revenue  ;  the  revenue  was  to  pay  the  cost  of  the  army ;  and 


388  THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

by  this  army,  stationed  in  the  colonies  and  paid  by  them,  the 
colonists  were  to  be  kept  down  and  the  French  kept  out. 
The  policy  was  ingenious  and  plausible ;  it  wanted  but  one 
thing  for  its  successful  operation ;  but  that  want  was  fatal. 
It  needed  to  be  put  to  practice  among  men  who  would  submit 
to  it.  It  would  have  done  exceedingly  well  in  the  new  Cana- 
dian conquests ;  but  it  was  wholly  out  of  place  among  the 
descendants  of  the  Pilgrims  and  the  Puritans.  Up  to  this 
hour,  although  the  legislative  supremacy  of  England  had  not 
been  contested  in  general  terms,  yet  the  home  government 
had  never  attempted  to  enact  laws  simply  for  the  collection 
of  revenue.  They  had  confined  themselves  to  the  indirect 
operation  of  the  laws  of  trade,  (which  purported  to  be  for  the 
advantage  of  all  parts  of  the  empire,  the  colonies  as  well  as 
the  mother  country,)  and  those  not  rigidly  enforced.  The 
reduction  of  the  French  possessions  was  the  signal,  not  merely 
for  the  infusion  of  new  vigor  into  the  administration  of  the 
commercial  system,  but  for  the  assertion  of  the  naked  right 
to  tax  America. 

When  a  great  event  is  to  be  brought  about,  in  the  order  of 
Providence,  the  first  thing  which  arrests  the  attention  of  the 
student  of  its  history,  in  after  times,  is  the  appearance  of  the 
fitting  instruments  for  its  accomplishment.  They  come  for- 
ward, and  take  their  places  on  the  great  stage  of  action. 
They  know  not  themselves  for  what  they  are  raised  up ;  but 
there  they  are.  James  Otis  was  then  in  the  prime  of  man- 
hood, about  thirty-seven  years  of  age.  He  was  fully  per- 
suaded that  the  measures  adopted  by  the  British  government 
were  unconstitutional,  and  he  was  armed  with  the  genius  and 
learning,  the  wit  and  eloquence,  the  vehemence  of  temper, 
the  loftiness  of  soul,  the  firmness  of  nerve,  the  purity  of  pur- 
pose, necessary  to  constitute  a  great  popular  leader  in  difficult 
times.  The  question  was  brought  before  a  judicial  tribunal, 
—  I  must  confess,  in  a  small  way,  —  on  the  petition  of  the 
custom-house  officers  of  Salem,  for  writs  of  assistance  to  en- 
force the  acts  of  trade.  Otis  appeared  as  the  counsel  of  the 
commercial  interest,  to  oppose  the  granting  of  these  writs. 
Large  fees  were  tendered  him ;  but  his  language  was,  "  In 


THE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  389 

such  a  cause,  I  despise  all  fees."  His  associate  counsel,  Mr 
Thacher,  preceded  him  in  the  argument  of  the  cause,  with 
moderation  and  suavity ;  "  but  Otis,"  in  the  language  of  the 
elder  President  Adams,  who  heard  him,  "  was  a  flame  of  fire. 
With  a  promptitude  of  classical  allusions,  a  depth  of  research, 
a  rapid  summary  of  historical  events  and  dates,  a  profusion 
of  legal  authorities,  a  prophetic  glance  of  his  eye  into  futu- 
rity," (that  glorious  futurity  which  he  lived  not,  alas !  to  en- 
joy,) "and  a  deep  torrent  of  impetuous  eloquence,  he  carried 
all  before  him.  American  independence  was  then  and  there 
born.  Every  man,  of  an  immense  crowded  audience,  ap- 
peared to  me  to  go  away,  as  I  did,  ready  to  take  arms  against 
writs  of  assistance.  Then  and  there  was  the  first  scene  of 
the  first  act  of  opposition  to  the  arbitrary  claims  of  Great 
Britain."  * 

It  would  be  travelling  over  a  beaten  road  to  pursue  the 
narrative  of  the  parliamentary  contest  from  this  time  to  1775. 
My  object  has  merely  been  to  point  out  the  curious  historical 
connection  between  the  consolidation  and  the  downfall  of  the 
British  empire  in  America,  consequent  upon  the  successful 
issue  of  the  Seven  Years'  war.  One  consequence  only  may 
deserve  to  be  specified,  of  a  different  character,  but  springing 
from  the  same  source,  and  tending  to  the  same  end,  and  more 
decisive  of  the  fate  of  the  revolution  than  any  other  merely 
political  circumstance.  The  event  which  wrested  her  colo- 
nial possessions  on  this  continent  from  France,  gave  to  our 
fathers  a  friend  in  that  power  which  had  hitherto  been  their 
most  dreaded  enemy,  and  prepared  France,  —  by  the  gradual 
operation  of  public  sentiment,  and  the  influence  of  reasons 
of  state,  — when  the  accepted  time  should  arrive,  to  extend  to 
them  an  efficient  hand  to  aid  them  in  establishing  their  inde- 
pendence. Next  to  a  reconquest  of  her  own  possessions,  or 
rather  vastly  more  efficacious  towards  humbling  Great  Britain 
than  a  reconquest  of  the  colonies  of  France,  was  the  great 
policy  of  enabling  the  whole  British  empire  in  America. 

*  Tudor'a  Life  of  Otis,  page  61. 


390  1HE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

alike  the  recent  acquisitions  and  the  ancient  colonies  along 
the  coast,  (for  to  this  length  the  policy  of  France  extended,) 
to  throw  off  the  English  yoke.  France  played,  in  this 
respect,  on  a  much  grander  scale,  that  game  of  state  which 
gave  Mr  Canning  so  much  eclat,  a  few  years  since,  in  refer- 
ence to  the  affairs  of  Spain.  Perceiving  Spain  to  be  in  the 
occupation  of  the  French  army,  Mr  Canning,  with  a  policy, 
it  must  be  owned,  more  effective  as  towards  France  than 
friendly  towards  Spain,  determined,  as  he  said,  to  redress  the 
balance  of  power  in  the  Spanish  colonies ;  and  in  order  to 
render  the  acquisition  of  Spain  comparatively  worthless  to 
France,  to  use  his  own  language,  "he  called  into  being  a 
new  world  in  the  west."  Much  more  justly  might  the  Count 
de  Vergennes  have  boasted,  that,  England  having  wrested 
from  France  her  American  colonies,  he  had  determined  to 
redress  the  balance  of  power  in  the  quarter  where  it  was  dis- 
turbed j  to  wrest  from  the  victorious  arms  of  England  their 
new  acquisitions,  to  strike  their  ancient  foothold  from  beneath 
their  feet,  and  call  into  being  a  new  world  in  the  west.  On 
the  score  of  generosity,  the  French  minister  had  the  advan- 
tage that  his  blow  was  one  of  retaliation,  aimed  at  his  enemy, 
while  the  British  minister  struck  at  a  power  with  which  he 
was  at  peace,  through  the  sides  of  his  ally. 

But  all  this  wonderful  conjunction  of  political  causes  does 
not  sufficiently  explain,  in  a  practical  way,  the  phenomenon 
of  the  revolution,  nor  furnish  a  satisfactory  account  of  the 
promptitude  with  which  the  feeble  colonies  made  the  decisive 
appeal  to  arms  against  the  colossal  power  of  England,  —  the 
boldness  with  which  they  plunged  into  the  revolutionary 
struggle,  —  and  the  success  with  which,  through  a  thousand 
vicissitudes,  they  conducted  it  to  a  happy  close.  Fully  to 
comprehend  this,  we  must  again  cast  our  eyes  on  the  war  of 
1744,  and  still  more  on  that  of  1756,  as  forming  a  great  school 
of  military  conduct  and  discipline,  in  which  the  future  lead- 
ers of  the  revolution  were  trained  to  the  duties  of  the  camp 
and  the  field.  It  was  here  that  they  became  familiarized  to 
the  idea  of  great  military  movements,  and  accustomed  to  tha 


THE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  391 

direction  of  great  military  expeditions,  conceived  in  the  colo- 
nial councils,  and  often  carried  on,  in  the  first  instance,  by 
the  unaided  colonial  resources. 

In  the  extent  of  their  military  efforts,  the  numbers  of  men 
enlisted  in  the  New  England  colonies,  the  boldness  and  com- 
prehension of  the  campaigns,  the  variety  and  hardship  of  the 
service,  and  the  brilliancy  of  the  achievements,  I  could  almost 
venture  to  say  that  as  much  was  effected  in  these  two  wars, 
as  in  that  of  the  revolution.  The  military  efforts  of  the 
colonies  had  indeed,  from  the  first,  been  remarkable.  It  was 
calculated,  near  the  commencement  of  the  last  century,  that 
every  fifth  man  in  Massachusetts,  capable  of  bearing  arms, 
had  been  engaged  in  the  service  at  one  time.  The  more 
melancholy  calculation  was  at  the  same  time  made,  that  in 
the  period  of  thirty  years  from  King  Philip's  war,  from  five 
to  six  thousand  of  the  youth  of  the  colony  had  perished  in 
the  wars.  In  the  second  year  of  the  war  of  1744,  the  fa- 
mous expedition  against  Louisburg  was  planned  by  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Massachusetts,  and  sanctioned  by  its  General  Court. 
Three  thousand  two  hundred  of  her  citizens,  with  ten  armed 
ships,  sailed  against  that  place.  This  force,  compared  with 
the  population  of  Massachusetts  at  that  time,  was  equal  to  an 
army  of  twelve  thousand  men  with  our  present  numbers ;  and 
the  same  immense  force  was  kept  up  the  following  year. 
Louisburg,  by  an  auspicious  coincidence,  fell  on  the  seven- 
teenth of  June,  just  thirty  years  before  the  battle  of  Bunker 
Hill.  Colonel  Gridley,  who  pointed  the  mortar  which,  on  the 
third  trial,  threw  a  shell  into  the  citadel  at  Louisburg,  marked. 
out  the  lines  of  the  redoubt  on  Bunker  Hill ;  *  and  old 
Colonel  Frye,  who  hastened  to  join  his  regiment  on  Bunker 
Hill,  after  the  fight  had  begun,  recalling  the  surrender  of 
Louisburg,  at  which  he  had  been  present  thirty  years  before, 
declared  that  it  was  an  auspicious  day  for  America,  and  that 
he  would  take  the  risk  of  it.  At  the  treaty  of  Aix-la-Cha- 
pelle,  between  the  great  powers  of  Europe,  this  poor  little 

*  For  this  and  some  other  facts  in  this  Address,  I  am  indebted  to 
Colonel  Swett's  interesting  and  valuable  history  of  the  battle  of  Bunker 
HUL 


$92  THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

New  England  conquest  was  all  that  Great  Britain  had  to  give. 
as  an  equivalent  for  the  restitution  of  all  the  conquests  made 
by  France  in  the  course  of  the  war. 

But  in  the  war  of  1756,  the  military  efforts  of  the  colonies 
were  still  more  surprising.  If  it  is  said  that  they  were  up- 
held by  the  resources  of  the  mother  country,  let  it  not  be 
forgotten,  in  making  the  comparison  of  their  exertions  in  this 
war  with  those  in  the  revolution,  that  in  the  latter  they  had 
the  powerful  support  of  France.  The  Seven  Years'  war  was 
carried  on  in  America,  at  the  same  time,  in  the  extreme  south 
against  the  Cherokee  Indians,  then  a  formidable  enemy,  in  the 
western  part  of  Virginia  and  Pennsylvania,  at  Niagara,  on 
the  whole  frontier  line,  from  Albany  to  the  St  Lawrence  and 
Quebec,  in  the  extreme  north-eastern  corner  of  the  country, 
where  Nova  Scotia  and  Cape  Breton  were  retaken,  in  the 
West  Indies,  and  on  the  Spanish  Main.  The  regiments  of 
New  England  and  New  York,  in  this  war,  fought  on  Lake 
Ontario  and  Lake  George,  at  Quebec,  in  Nova  Scotia,  in  Mar- 
tinico,  Porto  Bello,  and  at  the  Havana.  From  the  year  1754 
to  1762,  there  were  raised,  by  the  single  province  of  Massa- 
chusetts, thirty-five  thousand  men ;  and  for  three  years  suc- 
cessively, seven  thousand  men  each  year !  This  was  in 
addition  to  large  numbers  of  the  seafaring  inhabitants,  who 
enlisted  or  were  impressed  into  the  British  navy ;  and  in  ad- 
dition to  those  who  enlisted  in  the  regular  British  army,  who 
amounted  in  one  year  to  near  a  thousand.  Napoleon,  at  the 
summit  of  his  power,  did  not  carry  an  equal  number  of  the 
French  people  into  the  field.  An  army  of  seven  thousand, 
compared  with  the  population  of  Massachusetts  in  the  middle 
of  the  last  century,  is  considerably  greater  than  an  army  of 
one  million  for  France,  in  the  time  of  Napoleon. 

If  I  were  to  repeat  the  names  of  all  the  distinguished 
pupils  in  this  great  school  of  war,  I  should  have  to  run  over 
the  list  of  a  large  proportion  of  the  officers  of  the  revolution- 
ary army.  Among  them  were  Prescott,  Putnam,  Stark,  Grid- 
ley,  Pomroy,  Gates,  Montgomery,  Mercer,  Lee,  and,  above  all, 
Washington.  If  I  were  to  undertake  to  recount  the  heroic 
adventures,  the  incredible  hardships,  the  privations  and  ex- 


THE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  393 

posures  that  were  endured  in  the  frontier  wilderness,  in  the 
warfare  with  the  savage  foe,  —  on  the  dreary  scouting  parties 
in  midwinter,  —  I  should  unfold  a  tale  of  human  fortitude 
and  human  suffering,  to  which  it  would  make  the  heart  bleed 
to  listen.  I  should  speak  of  the  gallant  Colonel  Williams,  the 
founder  of  the  important  institution  for  education  which 
bears  his  name,  in  the  western  part  of  the  commonwealth, 
the  accomplished,  affable,  and  beloved  commander,  who  fell 
at  the  head  of  his  regiment,  on  the  bloody  eighth  of  Septem- 
ber, 1755.  Nor  would  I  forget  the  faithful  Mohawk  chief- 
tain, Hendrick,  who  fell  at  his  side.  I  should  speak  of 
Putnam,  tied  to  a  tree  by  a  party  of  savages  who  had  surprised 
him  at  the  commencement  of  an  action  in  a  subsequent  cam- 
paign, and  exposed,  in  this  condition,  to  the  fire  of  both 
parties  ;  afterwards  bound  again  to  the  stake,  and  the  piles 
kindled  which  were  to  burn  him  alive,  but,  by  the  inter- 
ference of  an  Indian  warrior,  rescued  from  this  imminent 
peril,  and  preserved  by  Providence  to  be  one  of  the  thunder- 
bolts of  the  revolution.  I  should  speak  of  Gridley,  —  whom 
I  have  already  mentioned,  —  the  engineer  at  Louisburg,  the 
artillerist  at  Quebec,  where  his  corps  dragged  up  the  only  two 
field-pieces  which  were  raised  to  the  Heights  of  Abraham,  in 
the  momentous  assault  on  that  city,  and  who,  as  I  have 
already  said,  planned  the  lines  of  the  redoubt  on  Bunker  Hill, 
with  consummate  ability.  I  should  speak  of  Pomroy  of 
Northampton,  who,  in  the  former  war,  wrote  to  his  wife  from 
Louisburg,  that,  "  if  it  were  the  will  of  God,  he  hoped  to  see 
her  pleasant  face  again  ;  but  if  God,  in  his  holy  and  sovereign 
providence,  has  ordered  it  otherwise,  he  hoped  to  have  a' 
glorious  meeting  with  her  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  where 
there  are  no  wars,  nor  fatiguing  marches,  nor  roaring  cannons, 
nor  cracking  bombshells,  nor  long  campaigns,  but  an  eternity 
to  spend  in  perfect  harmony  and  undisturbed  peace  ;  "  *  and 
who  did  not  only  live  to  see  his  wife's  pleasant  face  again,  but 
to  wound  with  his  own  hands,  in  the  year  1755,  the  commander 
of  the  French  army,  the  brave  Baron  Dieskau ;  and  who,  on 

•  See  the  note  at  the  end. 


394  THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

the  17th  of  June,  1775,  dismounted  and  passed  Charlestcwn 
Neck,  on  his  way  to  Bunker  Hill,  on  foot,  in  the  midst  of  a 
shower  of  balls,  because  he  did  not  think  it  conscionable  to 
ride  General  Ward's  horse,  which  he  had  borrowed,  through 
the  cross  fire  of  the  British  ships  of  war  and  floating  batter- 
ies. I  should  speak  of  Rogers,  the  New  Hampshire  partisan, 
who,  in  one  of  the  sharp  conflicts  in  which  his  corps  of 
rangers  was  continually  engaged,  was  shot  through  the  wrist, 
and,  having  had  his  queue  cut  off  by  one  of  his  men,  to  stop 
up  the  wound,  went  on  with  the  fight.  I  should  speak  of 
the  superhuman  endurance  and  valor  of  Stark,  a  captain  in 
the  same  corps  of  rangers,  throughout  the  Seven  Years' 
war,  —  a  colonel  at  Bunker  Hill,  —  and  who,  by  the  victory 
at  Bennington,  which  he  planned  and  achieved  almost  by  the 
unaided  resources  of  his  own  powerful  mind  and  daring 
spirit,  first  turned  the  tide  of  disaster  in  the  revolutionary 
war.  I  should  speak  of  Frye,  who  was  included,  as  com- 
mander of  the  Massachusetts  forces,  in  the  disastrous  capitu- 
lation of  Fbrt  William  Henry,  in  1757,  and  escaping,  stripped 
and  mangled,  from  the  tomahawk  of  the  savages,  who  fell 
upon  them  the  moment  they  were  marched  out  of  the  fort, 
wandered  about  the  woods  several  days,  naked  and  starving, 
but  who  was  one  of  the  first  to  obey  the  summons  that  ran 
through  the  country,  on  the  19th  of  April,  1775,  and  who 
called  to  mind  the  17th  of  June,  1745,  as  he  hastened  to  join 
his  regiment  on  Bunker  Hill.  I  should  speak  of  Lord  Howe, 
the  youthful,  gallant,  and  favorite  British  general.  On  the 
eve  of  the  fatal  assault  on  Ticonderoga,  in  1758,  he  sent  for 
Stark  to  sup  with  him,  on  his  bear-skin  in  his  tent,  and  talk 
over  the  prospects  of  the  ensuing  day.  He  fell,  the  next 
morning,  at  the  head  of  his  advancing  column,  equally  lament- 
ed by  Britons  and  Americans.  The  General  Court  of  Massa- 
chusetts erected  a  monument  to  his  memory,  in  Westminster 
Abbey  ;  and  Stark,  who  never  spoke  of  him  without  emo- 
tion, used  to  rejoice,  since  he  was  to  fall,  that  he  fell  before 
his  distinguished  talents  could  be  employed  against  America. 
Above  all,  I  should  speak  of  Washington,  the  youthful  Virgin- 
ian colonel,  as  modest  as  brave,  who  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed 


THE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  395 

life  amidst  the  bullets  of  the  French  and  Indians  at  Brad- 
dock's  defeat,  and  who  was  shielded  on  that  most  bloody  day 
by  the  arm  of  Providence,  to  become  the  earthly  savior  of 
his  country. 

Such  were  some  of  the  incidents  which  connect  the  Seven 
Years'  war  with  that  of  the  revolution.  Such  was  the  school 
in  which,  upon  the  then  unexplored  banks  of  the  Ohio,  by 
the  roaring  waters  of  Niagara,  and  in  the  pathless  wilderness 
of  the  north-western  frontier,  the  men  of  1776  were  trained 
in  the  strictest  school  of  British  military  discipline  and  con- 
duct. And  if  there  were  wanted  one  instance  more  signal 
than  all  others  of  the  infatuation  which  at  that  time  swayed 
the  councils  of  Great  Britain,  it  would  be  the  fact  that  the 
British  ministry  not  only  attempted  to  impose  their  unconsti- 
tutional laws  upon  men  who  had  drawn  in  the  whole  great 
doctrine  of  English  liberty  with  their  mothers'  milk,  but  who, 
a  few  years  before,  had  for  eight  campaigns  stood  side  by 
side  with  the  veterans  of  the  British  army  ;  who  had  marched 
beneath  the  wings  of  the  British  eagle,  and  shared  the  prey 
of  the  British  lion,  from  Louisiana  to  Quebec. 

At  length  the  revolution,  with  all  this  grand  civil  and  mil- 
itary preparation,  came  on  ;  and  O  that  I  could  paint  out  in 
worthy  colors  the  magnificent  picture !  Such  a  subject  as 
it  presents,  considered  as  the  winding  up  of  a  great  drama, 
of  which  the  opening  scene  begins  with  the  landing  of  our 
fathers,  is  nowhere  else,  I  firmly  believe,  to  be  found  in  the 
annals  of  man.  It  is  a  great  national  Epos  of  real  life  — 
unsurpassed  in  grandeur  and  attraction.  It  comprehends 
every  kind  of  interest  —  politics  of  the  most  subtle  and 
expansive  schools ;  great  concerns  of  state  and  humanity 
mingled  up  with  personal  intrigues  ;  the  passions  of  ministers 
and  the  arts  of  cabinets,  in  strange  contrast  with  the  mighty 
developments  of  Providence,  which  seem  to  take  in  the  fate 
of  the  civilized  world  for  ages.  On  the  one  hand,  the  great 
sanctuary  of  the  British  power,  the  adytum  imperii,  is  heard, 
as  Tacitus  says  of  the  sanctuary  at  Jerusalem,  to  resound  with 
the  valediction  of  the  departing  gods.  On  the  other  hand 


39(5  THE    SEVEN    YEARS'    WAR 

the  fair  temple  of  American  independence  is  seen  rising  like 
an  exhalation  from  the  soil,  — 

"  Not  in  the  sunshine  and  the  smile  of  heaven, 
But  wrapped  in  whirlwinds  and  begirt  with  woes." 

The  incidents,  the  characters,  are  worthy  of  the  drama. 
What  names,  what  men  !  Chatham,  Burke,  Fox,  Franklin,  the 
Adamses,  Washington,  Jefferson,  and  all  the  chivalry  and  all 
the  diplomacy  of  Europe  and  America.  The  voice  of  generous 
disaffection  sounds  beneath  the  arches  of  St.  Stephen's ;  and 
the  hall  of  Congress  rings  with  an  eloquence  like  that  which 

"  Shook  the  arsenal,  and  fulmined  over  Greece, 
To  Macedon  and  Artaxerxes'  throne." 

Then  contemplate  the  romantic  groups  that  crowd  the  mil- 
itary scene ;  all  the  races  of  men,  and  all  the  degrees  of  civ- 
ilization, brought  upon  the  stage  at  once  —  the  English  vet- 
eran ;  the  plaided  Highlander  ;  the  hireling  peasantry  of  Hesse 
Cassel  and  Anspach ;  the  gallant  chevaliers  of  Poland ;  the 
well-appointed  legions  of  France,  led  by  her  polished  noblesse  ; 
the  hardy  American  yeoman,  his  leather  apron  not  always 
thrown  aside  ;  the  mountain  rifleman  ;  the  painted  savage.  At 
one  moment,  we  hear  the  mighty  armadas  of  Europe 
thundering  in  the  Antilles.  Anon  we  behold  the  blue-eyed 
Brunswickers,  whose  banners  told,  in  their  tattered  sheets,  of 
the  victory  of  Minden,  threading  the  wilderness  between  the 
St  Lawrence  and  Albany,  under  an  accomplished  British 
gentleman,  and  capitulating  to  the  American  forces,  com- 
manded by  a  naturalized  Virginian,  who  had  been  present 
at  the  capture  of  Martinico,  and  was  shot  through  the  body 
at  Braddock's  defeat.  While  the  grand  drama  is  closed,  at 
Yorktown,  with  the  storm  of  the  British  lines,  by  the  emu- 
lous columns  of  the  French  and  American  army,  the  Amer- 
icans, led  by  the  heroic  La  Fayette,  a  scion  of  the  oldest 
French  nobility  ;  a  young  New  York  lawyer,  the  gallant 
and  lamented  Hamilton,  commanding  the  advanced  guard. 


THE    SCHOOjb    OF    1HE    REVOLUTION.  397 

Nor  let  us  turn  from  the  picture  without  shedding  a  tear 
over  the  ashes  of  the  devoted  men  who  laid  down  their  lives 
in  the  cause,  from  Lexington  and  Concord  to  the  farthest 
sands  of  the  south.  Warren  was  the  first  conspicuous  vic- 
tim. If  ever  a  man  went  to  an  anticipated  and  certain  death 
in  obedience  to  the  call  of  duty,  he  was  that  man.  Though 
he  had  no  military  education,  he  knew,  from  the  first,  that  to 
hold  Bunker  Hill,  in  the  state  of  the  American  army,  was 
impracticable.  He  was  against  fortifying  it  ;  but,  overruled  in 
that,  he  resolved  to  assist  in  its  defence.  His  associate  in  the 
Provincial  Congress,  Mr  Gerry,  besought  him  not  to  risk  his 
life,  for  that  its  loss  was  inevitable.  Warren  thought  it  might 
be  so,  but  replied,  that  he  dwelt  within  the  sound  of  the  can- 
non, and  that  he  should  die  beneath  his  roof  if  he  remained 
at  home  while  his  countrymen  were  shedding  their  blood  for 
him.  Mr  Gerry  repeated,  that  if  he  went  to  the  hill,  he  would 
surely  be  killed ;  and  Warren's  rejoinder  was,  "  Dulce  et 
decorum  est  pro  patria  mori"  Montgomery  moved  to  the 
assault  of  Quebec  in  the  depth  of  a  Canadian  winter,  at  the 
end  of  December,  under  a  violent  snow-storm.  One  gun 
only  was  fired  from  the  batteries,  but  that  proved  fatal  to  the 
gallant  commander  and  his  aids,  who  fell  where  he  had  fought 
by  the  side  of  Wolfe,  sixteen  years  before.  Mercer  passed 
through  the  seven  years'  war  with  Washington.  On  one 
occasion  in  that  war,  he  wandered  through  the  wilderness, 
wounded  and  faint  with  the  loss  of  blood,  for  one  hundred 
miles,  subsisting  on  a  rattlesnake  which  he  killed  by  the 
way.  He  was  pierced  seven  times  through  the  body  with  a 
bayonet,  at  Princeton.  Scammel,  severely  wounded  at  Sar- 
atoga, fell  on  the  eve  of  the  glorious  success  at  Yorktown ; 
and  Laurens,  the  youthful  prodigy  of  valor  and  conduct,  the 
last  lamented  victim  of  the  war,  paid  the  forfeit  of  his  bril- 
liant prospects  after  those  of  the  country  were  secured. 

These  were  all  men  who  have  gained  a  separate  renown ; 
who  have  secured  a  place  for  their  names  in  the  annals  of 
liberty.  But  let  us  not,  while  we  pay  a  well-deserved  tribute 
to  their  memory,  forget  the  thousand  gallant  hearts  which 
poured  out  their  life-blood  in  the  undistinguished  ranks ;  who 


398  THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR 

followed  the  call  of  duty  up  to  the  cannon's  mouth;  who 
could  not  promise  themselves  the  meed  of  fame,  and,  Heaven 
knows,  could  have  been  prompted  by  no  hope  of  money ; 
the  thousands  who  pined  in  loathsome  prison-ships,  or  lan- 
guished with  the  diseases  of  the  camp ;  and,  returning  from 
their  country's  service  with  broken  fortunes  and  ruined  con- 
stitutions, sunk  into  an  early  grave. 

"  How  sleep  the  brave,  who  sink  to  rest 
With  all  their  country's  wishes  blest ! 
When  Spring,  with  dewy  fingers  cold, 
Returns  to  deck  their  hallowed  mould, 
She  there  shall  dress  a  sweeter  sod 
Than  fancy's  feet  have  ever  trod. 
There  Honor  comes,  a  pilgrim  gray, 
To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  then*  clay , — 
And  Freedom  shall  a  while  repair, 
To  dwell  a  weeping  hermit  there." 

Still  less  let  us  forget,  on  this  auspicious  anniversary,  the  ven- 
erable survivors  of  the  eventful  contest.  Let  us  rejoice  that 
so  many  of  them  are  spared  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  efforts 
and  sacrifices.  Let  us  behold  in  their  gray  locks  and  honor- 
able scars  the  strongest  incentives  to  the  discharge  of  every 
duty  of  the  citizen  and  patriot ;  and  above  all,  let  us  listen 
to  the  strong  appeal  which  the  whole  army  of  the  revolution 
makes  to  us,  through  these  its  aged  surviving  members,  to 
show  our  gratitude  to  those  who  fell,  by  smoothing  the  path- 
way to  t?  e  grave  of  their  brethren,  whom  years  and  the  early 
hardships  of  the  service  yet  spare  for  a  short  time  among  us. 

But  it  is  time  to  turn,  from  all  these  mingled  contempla- 
tions, to  the  practical  lesson  which  it  becomes  us  to  draw 
from  our  reflections  on  this  great  subject. 

Momentous  as  the  revolution  was  in  its  origin  and  causes, 
its  incidents  and  characters,  it  derives  a  still  greater  interest 
from  its  results. 

Fifty  years  have  elapsed  since  the  termination  of  the  war ; 
and  in  that  half  century  we  have  been  reaping  fruits,  most 
costly  and  peculiar,  of  the  precious  seed  then  sown.  One 
general  constitution  of  federal  government  has  been  framed ; 


1HE    SCHOOL    OF    THE    EEVOLUTION.  399 

and  connected  with  it,  in  most  harmonious  relation,  twenty- 
four  constitutions  of  government  for  the  separate  states. 
These,  in  their  respective  spheres,  operating  each  to  its 
assigned  end,  have  secured  us  in  all  the  blessings  of  political 
independence  and  well-regulated  liberty.  The  industry  of 
the  country  has  been  protected  and  fostered,  and  carried  to  a 
wonderful  point  of  skill  ;  the  rights  of  the  country  have 
been  triumphantly  vindicated  in  a  second  war  ;  its  boundaries 
pushed  into  the  remote  wilderness ;  its  population  increased 
fivefold,  and  its  wealth  augmented  in  still  greater  ratio; 
avenues  of  communication,  by  land  and  by  water,  stretched 
across  the  plains  and  over  the  mountains  in  every  direction ; 
the  most  astonishing  improvements  made  in  all  the  arts  of 
life  ;  and  literature  and  science  not  less  successfully  cultivated. 
Did  time  permit  me  to  descend  to  particulars,  I  could  point 
out  five  or  six  principles  or  institutions,  each  of  the  highest 
importance  in  civil  society ;  for  some  of  which  the  best  blood 
of  Europe  has,  from  time  to  time,  been  shed,  and  mighty 
revolutions  have  been  attempted  in  vain ;  and  which  have 
grown  up,  silently  and  unconsciously,  in  this  country  in  the 
space  of  fifty  years.  I  can  but  run  over  the  names  of  the 
reforms  which,  in  this  connection,  have  been  achieved  or  are 
in  progress.  The  feudal  accumulation  of  property  in  a  few 
hands  has  been  guarded  against,  and  liberty  has  been  founded 
on  its  only  sure  basis,  equality ;  and  with  this  all-important 
change  a  multitude  of  minor  reforms  have  been  introduced 
into  our  system  of  law.  The  great  question  of  the  proper 
mode  of  disposing  of  crime  has  been  solved,  by  the  establish- 
ment of  a  penitentiary  system,  which  combines  the  ends  of 
penal  justice  with  the  interests  of  humanity ;  divests  impris- 
onment of  its  ancient  cruelties,  without  making  it  cease  to  be 
an  object  of  terror ;  affords  the  best  chance  for  the  reform 
of  the  convict,  and  imposes  little  or  no  burden  on  the  state. 
A  like  success  seems  to  be  promised  in  reference  to  the  other 
great  evil  of  pauperism,  a  burden  of  intolerable  weight  in 
every  other  country.  Experiments  have  pretty  satisfactorily 
shown  that,  by  a  judicious  system,  carefully  administered, 
pauperism  may  be  made  to  cease  to  be  a  school  for  crime 


400  THE  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAU 

and  to  a  considerable  degree,  also,  cease  to  ho  a  burden  to  the 
public.  A  plan  of  popular  education  has  been  introduced,  by 
which  the  elements  of  useful  knowledge  have  been  carried  to 
every  door.  Political  equality  has  been  established  on  the 
broadest  footing,  with  no  other  evils  than  those  which  are 
inseparable  from  humanity  —  evils  infinitely  less  than  those 
of  despotic  government.  In  fine,  freedom  of  conscience  has 
been  carried  to  the  highest  point  of  practical  enjoyment, 
without  producing  any  diminution  of  the  public  respect  due 
to  the  offices  of  religion. 

These  I  take  to  be  the  real  substantial  fruits  of  our  free 
constitutions  of  government.  They  are  matters  each  of  the 
highest  moment.  Their  importance  would  well  occupy  each 
a  separate  essay.  Time  only  has  been  left  me  thus  to  indi- 
cate them. 

With  these  results  of  our  happily  organized  liberty  we  are 
starting,  fellow-citizens,  on  the  second  half  century  since  the 
close  of  the  revolutionary  war.  Let  us  hope  that  we  are  to 
move  with  a  still  accelerated  pace  on  the  path  of  improve- 
ment and  happiness,  of  public  and  private  virtue  and  honor. 
When  we  compare  what  our  beloved  country  now  is,  —  or,  to 
go  no  farther  than  our  own  state,  when  we  compare  what 
Massachusetts  now  is  with  what  it  was  fifty  years  ago,  —  what 
grounds  for  honest  pride  and  boundless  gratitude  does  not  the 
comparison  suggest !  And  if  we  wished  to  find  an  example 
of  a  community  as  favored  as  any  on  earth  with  a  salubrious 
climate  ;  a  soil  possessed  of  precisely  that  degree  of  fertility 
which  is  most  likely  to  create  a  thrifty  husbandry ;  advan- 
tages for  all  the  great  branches  of  industry,  commerce,  agri- 
culture, the  fisheries,  manufactures,  and  the  mechanic  arts  ; 
free  institutions  of  government ;  establishments  for  education, 
charity,  and  moral  improvement ;  a  sound  public  sentiment, 
and  general  love  of  order ;  a  glorious  tradition  of  ances- 
tral renown ;  a  pervading  moral  sense,  and  an  hereditary 
respect  for  religion,  —  if  we  wished  to  find  a  land  where  a 
man  could  desire  to  live,  to  educate  and  establish  his  chil- 
dren, to  grow  old  and  to  die,  —  where  could  we  look,  where 
need  we  wander,  beyond  the  limits  of  our  own  ancient  and 
venerable  state  ? 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.     401 

Fellow-citizens  of  Worcester,  words,  after  all,  are  vain. 
Do  you  wish  to  learn  how  much  you  are  indebted  to  those 
who  laid  the  foundation  of  these  your  social  blessings  ?  Do 
not  listen  to  me,  but  look  around  you  ;  survey  the  face  of  the 
country,  of  the  immediate  neighborhood  in  which  you  live. 
Go  up  to  the  rising  grounds  that  overlook  this  most  beautiful 
village ;  contemplate  the  scene  of  activity,  prosperity,  and 
thrift  spread  out  before  you.  Pause  on  the  feelings  of  satis- 
faction with  which  you  dismiss  your  children  in  the  morning 
to  school,  or  receive  them  home  at  evening ;  the  assured 
tranquillity  with  which  you  lie  down  to  repose  at  night,  half 
of  you,  I  doubt  not,  with  unbolted  doors,  beneath  the  over- 
shadowing pinions  of  the  public  peace.  Dwell  upon  the 
sacred  calm  of  the  Sabbath  morn,  when  the  repose  of  man 
and  of  nature  is  awakened  by  no  sound  but  that  of  the 
village  bell,  calling  you  to  go  up  and  worship  God,  according 
to  the  dictates  of  your  conscience ;  and  reflect  that  all  these 
blessings  were  purchased  for  you  by  your  high-souled  fathers, 
at  the  cost  of  years  of  labor,  trial,  and  hardship ;  of  banish- 
ment from  their  native  land,  of  persecution  and  bloodshed,  of 
tyranny  and  war.  Think,  then,  of  Greece  and  of  Poland ; 
of  Italy  and  of  Spain ;  aye,  of  France  and  of  England ;  of  any 
and  of  every  country  but  your  own ;  and  you  will  know  the 
weight  of  obligation  you  owe  your  fathers,  and  the  reasons 
of  gratitude  which  should  prompt  you  to  celebrate  the  fourth 
of  July. 

VOL.  I.  51 


NOTE. 


I  HAVE  thought  that  the  reader,  who  is  curious  in  the  earlier  history  of 
our  country,  would  be  gratified  with  the  whole  of  the  letter  of  General 
Pomroy,  of  which  a  characteristic  sentence  is  quoted  in  the  text.  It  has 
never  been  printed,  and  is  here  subjoined  from  a  copy  furnished  me  by  iny 
much  valued  friend,  Mr  George  Bancroft,  of  Northampton. 

From  ye  Grand  Battre  5  mile  &  haf  North  From  ye  City  Louisbourg. 

May  ye  8,  1745. 

My  dear  Wife,  Altho  ye  many  Dangers  &  hazards  I  have  been  in  since  I 
left  you,  yet  I  have  been  through  ye  goodness  of  God  Preserved,  tho  much 
worried  with  ye  grate  business  I  have  upon  my  hands.  But  I  go  cherefully 
on  with  it.  I  have  much  to  write,  but  little  time  Shall  only  give  some  hints 
Tuesday  ye  Last  day  of  April,  ye  fleet  landed  on  ye  Island  of  Cape  Breton 
about  5  miles  from  Louisbourg.  ye  French  saw  our  vessels  and  came  out  with 
a  company  to  prevent  our  landing  But  as  Fast  as  ye  boats  could  git  on  shore 
ye  men  were  landed.  A  warm  ingagement  with  them :  They  sone  retreated, 
we  followed  them,  &  drove  them  into  ye  woods  but  few  of  them  able  to  git 
into  ye  city  yt  day  4  we  killed  yt  were  found  many  taken  we  lost  not  one 
man :  We  have  taken  &  killed  since  many  more,  ye  number  I  do  not  know, 
but  not  less  than  eighty  parsons  what  is  since  killed.  The  grand  Battre  is 
ours :  but  before  we  entered  it  the  people  were  fled  out  of  it,  and  gon  over  to 

ye  town  But  had  stopt  up  ye  Tutchhols  of  ye  cannon General  Peppril 

gave  me  ye  Charge  and  oversight  of  above  twenty  smiths  in  boaring  of  them 
out :  Cannon  boals  &  Bourns  hundred  of  them  were  fired  at  us  from  ye  city  & 
ye  Island  Fort.  Grate  numbers  of  Them  struck  ye  Fort :  Some  in  ye  parade 
among  ye  People  But  none  of  them  hurt  &  as  sone  as  we  could  git  ye  cannon 
clear  we  gave  them  Fire  for  Fire  &  Bombarded  them  on  ye  west  side.  Louis- 
bourg an  exceeding  strong  handsom  &  well  sittiated  place  with  a  fine  harber 
it  seams  impregnable.  But  we  have  ben  so  succeeded  heitherto  yt  I  do  not 
doubt  But  Providence  will  Deliver  it  into  our  hands. 

Sunday    What  we  have  lost  of  our  men  I  do  not  certinly  know,  But  I  fear 

May  ye    near  20  men  ye  army  in  general  have  been  in  health :  It  looks  as 

12  from    if  our  campane  would  last  long  But  I  am  willing  to  stay  till  God's 

this        time  comes  to  deliver  ye  Citty  Louisbourg  into  our  hands,  which 

below      do  not  doubt  but  will  in  good  time  be  done :  we  have  shut  them 

writ       up  on  every  side  and  still  are  making  our  works  stronger  against 

them.     42  pound  shot  they  have  fired  in  upon  them  every  day;  one  very 

(402) 


NOTE.  403 

large  mortar  we  have  with  which  we  play  upon  them  upon  there  houses  often 
braks  among  them :  there  houses  are  compact,  which  ye  bourns  must  do  a 
grate  deal  of  hirt  &  distress  them  in  a  grate  degree  Small  mortars  we  have 
with  which  we  fire  in  upon  them.  I  have  had  my  health  since  I  landed. 

My  dear  wife  I  expect  to  be  longer  gon  from  home  then  I  did  when  I  left 
it :  but  I  desire  not  to  think  of  returning  Till  Louisbourg  is  taken  :  &  I  hope 
God  will  inable  you  to  submit  quietly  to  his  will  whatever  it  may  be  ;  and 
inable  you  with  courage  &  good  conduct  to  go  through  ye  grate  business  yt  is 
now  upon  your  hands  &  not  think  your  time  ill  spent  in  teaching  and  govern- 
ing your  family  according  to  ye  word  of  God. 

My  company  in  general  are  well :  Some  few  of  them  are  HI,  But  hope  none 
dangerous. 

The  affairs  at  home  I  can  order  nothing  But  must  wholly  leave  Hoping  yt 
they  will  be  well  ordered  &  taken  care  of :  My  kind  love  to  Mr  SweetJand  my 
duty  to  Mother  Hunt  &  love  to  Brothers  and  sisters  all 

My  Dear  wife  If  it  be  the  will  of  God  I  hope  to  see  your  pleasant  face 
again :  But  if  God  in  his  Holy  and  Sovereign  Providence  has  ordered  it  others 
wise,  I  hope  to  have  a  glorious  meeting  with  you  in  ye  Kingdom  of  heaven 
where  there  is  no  wars  nor  Fatiguing  marches,  no  roaring  cannon  nor  cracking 
Bourn  shells,  nor  long  Campains ;  But  an  eternity  to  spend  in  Perfect  harmony 
and  undisturbed  peace. 

This  is  ye  hartty  Desire  &  Prayer 
of  him  yt  is  your  loving 

Husband  SETH  POMBOY. 

To  Mas  MABY  POMEOY  at  N  srthampton  in  New-England. 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.1 


MR  PRESIDENT  AND  GENTLEMEN: 

IT  has  given  me  peculiar  satisfaction  to  obey  your  call,  and 
appear  before  you  on  this  occasion.  I  take  a  sincere  pleas- 
ure, as  an  affectionate  and  dutiful  child  of  Harvard,  and  as 
an  humble  member  of  the  branch  of  our  fraternity  which  is 
there  established,  in  presenting  myself  within  the  precincts 
of  this  ancient  and  distinguished  seminary,  for  the  discharge 
of  the  agreeable  duty  which  you  have  assigned  me.  I  re- 
joice in  the  confidence  implied  in  your  invitation,  that  I 
know  neither  sect  nor  party  in  the  republic  of  letters ;  arid 
that  I  enter  your  halls  with  as  much  assurance  of  a  kind 
reception,  as  I  would  those  of  my  own  revered  and  ever- 
gracious  alma  mater. 

There  are  recollections  of  former  times  well  calculated  to 
form  a  bond  of  good  feeling  between  our  universities.  We 
cannot  forget  that,  in  the  early  days  of  Harvard,  when  its 
existence  almost  depended  on  the  precarious  contributions  of 
its  friends,  —  contributions  not  of  munificent  affluence,  but 
of  pious  poverty,  —  not  poured  into  the  academic  coffers  in 
splendid  dotations,  but  spared  from  the  scanty  means  of  an 
infant  and  destitute  country,  and  presented  in  their  primitive 
form,  — a  bushel  of  wheat,  a  cord  of  wood,  and  a  string  of 
Indian  beads, — (this  last  not  a  little  to  the  annoyance  of 
good  old  President  Dunster,  who,  as  the  records  of  the  com- 
missioners of  the  United  Colonies  tell  us,  was  sorely  per- 
plexed, in  sifting  out,  from  the  mass  of  the  genuine  quahog 

*  An  Oration  delivered  before  the  0.  B.  K.  Society  of  Yale  College, 
at  New  Haven,  20th  of  August,  1833. 

(404) 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  405 

and  periwinkle,  bits  of  blue  glass  and  colored  stones,  feloni- 
ously intermixed,  without  the  least  respect  for  the  purity  of 
the  col  ony's  wampum,*)  —  we  cannot  forget  that,  in  that  day 
of  smr.ll  things,  the  contributions  of  Connecticut  and  New 
Haven  —  as  the  two  infant  colonies  were  distinguished  — 
flowed  as  liberally  to  the  support  of  Cambridge,  as  those  of 
Plymouth  and  Massachusetts.  Still  less  would  I  forget,  that 
of  the  first  three  generations  of  the  fathers  of  Connecticut, 
those  who  were  educated  in  America  received  their  education 
at  Cambridge ;  that  the  first  four  presidents  of  Yale  were 
graduates  of  Harvard;  and  that  of  all  your  distinguished 
men,  in  church  and  state,  for  nearly  a  hundred  years,  a  goodly 
proportion  were  fitted  for  usefulness  in  life  within  her  venera- 
ble walls.  If  the  success  of  the  child  be  the  joy  of  the  parent, 
and  the  honor  of  the  pupil  be  the  crown  of  the  master,  with 
what  honest  satisfaction  may  not  our  institutions  reflect,  that 
they  stood  to  each  other  in  so  kindly  a  relation,  in  this 
early  and  critical  state  of  the  country's  growth,  when  the 
direction  taken,  and  the  character  impressed,  were  decisive 
of  interminable  consequences !  And  while  we  claim  the  right 
of  boasting  of  your  character  and  establishments,  as  in  some 
degree  the  fruit  of  a  good  old  Massachusetts  influence,  we 
hope  you  will  not  have  cause  to  feel  ashamed  of  the  auspices 
under  which,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  foundation  of  those  in- 
stitutions was  laid,  and  their  early  progress  encouraged. 

In  choosing  a  topic  on  which  to  address  you  this  morning, 
I  should  feel  a  greater  embarrassment  than  I  do,  did  I  not 
suppose  that  your  thoughts,  like  my  own,  would  flow  nat-. 
urally  into  such  a  channel  of  reflection  as  may  be  presumed 
at  all  times  to  be  habitual  and  familiar,  with  men  of  liberal 
education  and  patriotic  feeling.  The  great  utility  of  occa- 
sions like  this,  and  of  the  addresses  they  draw  forth,  is  not  to 
impart  stores  of  information,  laboriously  collected ;  not  to 
broach  new  systems,  requiring  carefully-weighed  arguments 
for  their  defence,  or  a  multitude  of  well-arranged  facts  for 
their  illustration.  We  meet  at  these  literary  festivals  to  pro- 

*  Hazard's  State  Papers,  Vol.  II.  page  124. 


406  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

mote  kind  feeling ;  to  impart  new  strength  to  good  purposes ; 
to  enkindle  and  animate  the  spirit  of  improvement  in  our- 
selves and  others.  We  leave  our  closets,  our  offices,  and  our 
studies,  to  meet  and  salute  each  other  in  these  pleasant  paths ; 
to  prevent  the  diverging  walks  of  life  from  wholly  estranging 
those  from  each  other,  who  were  kind  friends  at  its  outset ; 
to  pay  our  homage  to  the  venerated  fathers,  who  honor  with 
their  presence  the  return  of  these  academic  festivals  ;  and 
those  of  us  who  are  no  longer  young,  to  make  acquaintance 
with  the  ardent  and  ingenuous  who  are  following  after  us. 
The  preparation  for  an  occasion  like  this  is  in  the  heart,  not 
in  the  head ;  it  is  in  the  attachments  formed,  and  the  feelings 
inspired,  in  the  bright  morning  of  life.  Our  preparation  is  in 
the  classic  atmosphere  of  the  place,  in  the  tranquillity  of  the 
academic  grove,  in  the  unoffending  peace  of  the  occasion,  in 
the  open  countenance  of  long-parted  associates,  joyous  at 
meeting,  and  in  the  kind  and  indulgent  smile  of  the  favoring 
throng,  which  bestows  its  animating  attendance  on  our  hum- 
ble exercises. 

When  I  look  around  upon  the  assembled  audience,  and 
reflect  from  how  many  different  parts  of  the  country  the  pro- 
fessional portion  of  it  is  gathered,  and  in  what  a  variety  of 
pursuits  and  duties  it  is  there  occupied ;  and  when  I  consider 
that  this  our  literary  festival  is  also  honored  with  the  presence 
of  many  from  every  other  class  of  the  community,  all  of 
whom  have  yet  a  common  interest  in  one  subject,  at  least,  I 
feel  as  if  the  topic  on  which  I  am  to  ask  your  attention,  were 
imperatively  suggested  to  me.  It  is,  the  nature  and  efficacy 
of  education,  as  the  great  human  instrument  of  improving 
the  condition  of  man. 

Education  has  been,  at  some  former  periods  exclusively, 
and  more  or  less  at  all  former  periods,  the  training  of  a  learned 
class ;  the  mode  in  which  men  of  letters  or  the  members  of 
the  professions  acquired  that  lore  which  enabled  them  to 
insulate  themselves  from  the  community,  and  gave  them  the 
monopoly  of  rendering  the  services,  in  church  and  state, 
which  the  wants  or  imaginations  of  men  made  necessary, 
and  of  the  honors  and  rewards  which,  by  the  political 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  407 

constitution  of  society,  attached  to  the  discharge  of  those 
services. 

I  admit  that  there  was  something  generous  and  liberal  in 
education,  even  in  this  conception  of  its  objects ;  something 
popular,  and,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  republican,  in  the  edu- 
cated class,  even  at  the  darkest  period.  Learning,  even  in  its 
most  futile  and  scholastic  forms,  was  still  an  affair  of  the 
mind.  It  was  not,  like  hereditary  rank,  mere  physical  acci- 
dent ;  it  was  not,  like  military  power,  mere  physical  force. 
It  gave  an  intellectual  influence,  derived  from  intellectual 
superiority ;  and  it  enabled  some  minds,  even  in  the  darkest 
ages  of  European  history,  to  rise  from  obscurity  and  poverty 
to  be  the  lights  and  guides  of  mankind.  Such  was  Beda,  the 
great  luminary  of  a  dark  period,  a  poor  and  studious  monk, 
who,  without  birth  or  fortune,  became  the  great  teacher  of 
science  and  letters  to  the  age  in  which  he  lived.  Such,  still 
more  eminently,  was  his  illustrious  pupil,  Alcuin,  who,  by 
the  simple  force  of  mental  energy,  employed  in  intellectual 
pursuits,  raised  himself  from  the  cloister  to  be  the  teacher, 
companion,  and  friend  of  Charlemagne ;  arid  to  whom  it  has 
been  said  that  France  is  indebted  for  all  the  polite  literature 
of  his  own  and  the  succeeding  ages.*  Such,  at  a  later  period, 
was  another  poor  monk,  Roger  Bacon,  the  precursor,  and,  for 
the  state  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived,  scarcely  the  inferior 
of  his  namesake,  the  immortal  chancellor. 

But  a  few  brilliant  exceptions  do  not  affect  the  general 
character  of  the  education  of  former  ages.  It  was  a  thing 
apart  from  the  condition,  the  service,  and  the  participation  of 
the  great  mass  of  men.  It  was  the  training  of  a  privileged 
class ;  and  was  far  too  exclusively  the  instrument  by  which 
one  of  the  favored  orders  of  society  was  enabled  to  exercise 
a  tyrannical  and  exclusive  control  over  the  millions  which 
lay  wrapped  in  ignorance  and  superstition.  It  is  the  great  glory 
of  the  age  in  which  we  live,  that  learning,  once  the  instru- 
ment of  this  bondage,  has  become  the  instrument  of  reform  ; 

*  Cave,  Hist.  Lit  Ssec.  VII.,  An.  780,  cited  in  the  Life  of  Alcuin,  in  the 
Biographia  Britannica. 


408  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

that,  instead  of  an  educated  class,  we  have  made  some  good 
approach  to  an  educated  community.  That  intellectual  cul- 
ture which  gave  to  a  few  the  means  of  maintaining  an  ascend- 
ency over  the  fears  and  weaknesses  of  their  age,  has  now 
become  the  medium  of  a  grand  and  universal  mental  equality, 
and.  humanly  speaking,  the  great  concern  of  man.  It  has 
become  the  school  of  all  the  arts,  for  all  the  pursuits,  and  the 
preparation  of  a  very  considerable  portion  of  the  mass  of 
mankind  for  the  duties,  which,  in  the  present  state  of  the 
world,  devolve  upon  them. 

Let  us,  then,  dwell  for  a  moment  on  what  is  to  be  effected 
by  education,  considered  in  its  ultimate  objects  and  most 
comprehensive  sense,  in  which,  of  course,  is  included,  as  the 
most  important  element,  the  sound  and  enlightened  influence 
of  deep  religious  principle,  to  be  cherished  and  applied  through 
the  institutions  existing  for  that  sacred  purpose.  . 

A  great  work  is  to  be  done.  What  is  it,  in  its  general  out- 
line and  first  principles  ? 

To  answer  this  question,  we  must  remember  that,  of  the 
generation  now  on  the  stage,  by  which  the  business  of  the 
country,  public  and  private,  is  carried  on,  not  an  individual, 
speaking  in  general  terms,  will  be  in  a  state  of  efficient  activ- 
ity, and  very  few  in  existence,  thirty  years  hence.  Not 
merely  those  by  whom  the  government  is  administered  and 
the  public  service  performed,  in  its  various  civil  and  military 
departments,  will  have  passed  away,  but  all  who  are  doing 
the  great,  multifarious,  never-ending  work  of  social  life,  from 
the  highest  teacher  of  spiritual  wisdom  and  the  profoundest 
expositor  of  the  law  to  the  humblest  artisan,  will  have  ceased 
to  exist.  The  work  is  to  go  on ;  the  government  is  to  be 
administered,  laws  are  to  be  enacted  and  executed,  peace  pre- 
served or  war  levied,  the  will  of  the  people  to  be  expressed 
by  their  suffrages,  and  the  vast  system  of  the  industrious 
action  of  a  great  people,  in  all  their  thousand  occupations,  by 
sea  and  land,  to  be  kept  up  and  extended ;  but  those  now 
employed  in  all  this  great  work  are  to  cease  from  it,  and 
others  are  to  take  their  places. 

Like  most  of  the  great  phenomena  of  life, — miracles,  if  I 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  409 

may  so  say,  of  daily  occurrence,  — this  vast  change,  this  sur- 
cease of  a  whole  generation,  loses,  from  its  familiarity,  almost 
all  power  of  affecting  the  imagination.  The  political  revo- 
lution which  changes  the  royal  succession  from  one  family  to 
another,  which  prostrates  a  king  to  elevate  an  emperor,  and 
cements  his  throne  with  the  blood  of  some  hundreds,  perhaps 
thousands,  of  the  victims  of  his  ambition,  is  the  wonder  of 
the  age,  the  perpetual  theme  of  discourse,  the  standing  topic 
of  admiration.  But  this  great  revolution,  which  prostrates, 
not  one  man,  nor  one  family,  in  a  single  nation,  but  every 
man,  in  every  family,  throughout  the  world ;  which  bids  an 
entire  new  congregation  of  men  to  start  into  existence  and 
action ;  which  fills  with  new  incumbents,  not  one  blood- 
stained seat  of  royalty,  but  every  post  of  active  duty,  and 
every  retreat  of  private  life,  —  steals  on  us  silently  and  grad- 
ually, like  all  the  primordial  operations  of  Providence,  and 
must  be  made  the  topic  of  express  disquisition,  before  its 
extent  and  magnitude  are  estimated,  and  the  practical  duties 
to  be  deduced  from  it  are  understood. 

Such  a  revolution,  however,  is  impending,  as  decisive,  as 
comprehensive,  as  real,  as  if,  instead  of  being  the  gradual 
work  of  thirty  years,  it  were  to  be  accomplished  in  a  day  or 
an  hour ;  and  so  much  the  more  momentous  for  the  gradual 
nature  of  the  process.  Were  the  change  to  be  effected  at 
once,  were  this  generation  swept  off  and  another  brought  for- 
ward by  one  great  act  of  creative  energy,  it  would  concern 
us  only  as  speculative  philanthropists  what  might  be  the  char- 
acter of  our  successors.  Whether  we  transmitted  them  a 
heritage  honored  or  impaired,  — whether  they  succeeded  to  it, 
well  trained  to  preserve  and  increase,  or  ready  to  waste  it,  — 
would  import  nothing  to  our  interests  or  feelings.  But,  by 
the  law  of  our  nature,  the  generations  of  men  are  most  close- 
ly interlaced  with  each  other,  and  the  decline  of  one  and  the 
accession  of  the  other  are  gradual.  One  survives,  and  the 
other  anticipates  its  activity.  While,  in  the  decline  of  life, 
we  are  permitted  to  reap,  on  the  one  hand,  a  rich  reward  for 
all  that  we  have  attempted  patriotically  and  honestly,  in  pub- 
lic or  private,  for  the  good  of  our  fellow-men,  on  the  other 
VOL.  i.  52 


410  EDUCATION  OF  MANKIND. 

hand,  retribution  rarely  fails  to  overtake  us,  as  individuals  or 
communities,  for  the  neglect  of  public  duties,  or  the  violation 
of  the  social  trust. 

"  We  still  have  judgment  here ;  that  we  but  teach 
Bloody  instructions,  which,  being  taught,  return 
To  plague  the  inventor :  this  even-handed  justice 
Commends  the  ingredients  of  the  poisoned  chalice 
To  our  own  lips." 

By  this  law  of  our  natures,  the  places  which  we  fill  in  the 
world  are  to  be  taken  from  us ;  we  are  to  be  dispossessed  of 
our  share  in  the  honors  and  emoluments  of  life ;  driven  from 
our  resorts  of  business  and  pleasure  ;  ousted  from  our  tene- 
ments ;  ejected  from  our  estates ;  banished  from  the  soil  we 
called  our  own,  and  interdicted  fire  and  water  in  our  native 
land ;  and  those  who  ward  off  this  destiny  the  longest,  after 
holding  on  a  little  while,  with  a  convulsive  grasp,  making  a 
few  more  efforts,  exposing  their  thin  gray  hairs  in  another 
campaign  or  two,  will  gladly,  of  their  own  accord,  before  a 
great  while,  claim  to  be  exempts  in  the  service. 

But  this  revolution,  growing  out  of  the  constitution  of  our 
nature,  points  out  the  business  of  education  as  the  duty  and 
calling  of  man,  precisely  because  it  is  not  the  work  of  violent 
hands,  but  the  law  of  our  being.  It  is  not  an  outraged  pop- 
ulace, rising  in  their  wrath  and  fury,  to  throw  off  the  burden 
of  centuries  of  oppression.  Nor  is  it  an  inundation  of  strange 
barbarians,  issuing,  nation  after  nation,  from  some  remote  and 
inexhaustible  "  officina  gentium,"  lashed  forward  to  the  work 
of  destruction  by  the  chosen  scourges  of  God.  These  are 
the  means  by  which,  when  corruption  has  attained  a  height 
beyond  the  reach  of  ordinary  influences,  a  preparation  for  a 
great  and  radical  revolution  is  made.  But  the  revolution  of 
which  I  speak,  and  which  furnishes  the  principles  of  the 
great  duty  of  education,  all-comprehensive  and  unsparing  as 
it  is,  is  to  be  effected  by  a  gentle  race  of  beings,  just  step- 
ping over  the  threshold  of  childhood,  many  of  them  hardly 
crept  into  existence.  They  are  to  be  found  within  the  limits 
of  our  own  country,  of  our  own  community,  beneath  our 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  411 

own  roofs,  clinging  about  our  necks.  Father !  he  whom  you 
folded  in  your  arms,  and  carried  in  your  bosom  ;  whom,  with 
unutterable  anxiety,  you  watched  through  the  perilous  years 
of  childhood ;  whom  you  have  brought  to  college  this  very 
commencement,  and  are  dismissing  from  beneath  your  pater- 
nal guard  with  tearful  eyes  and  an  aching  heart ;  it  is  he 
who  is  destined  (if  your  ardent  prayers  are  heard)  to  out- 
thunder  you  at  the  forum  and  in  the  senate  house.  Fond 
mother !  the  future  rival  of  your  not  yet  fading  charms,  the 
"  matre  pulchra  filia  pulchrior,"  is  the  rose-bud  which  is  be- 
ginning to  open  and  blush  by  your  side.  Destined  to  super- 
sede us  in  all  we  hold  dear,  they  are  the  objects  of  our  ten- 
derest  cares.  Soon  to  outnumber  us,  we  spare  no  pains  to 
protect  and  rear  them  ;  and  the  strongest  instinct  of  our  hearts 
urges  us,  by  every  device  and  appliance,  to  bring  forward 
those  who  are  to  fill  our  places,  possess  our  fortunes,  wear 
our  honors,  snatch  the  words  from  our  lips,  the  truncheon  of 
command  from  our  hands,  and,  at  last,  gently  crowd  us,  worn 
out  and  useless,  from  the  scene. 

I  have  dwelt  on  this  connection  of  nature  and  affection 
between  the  generations  of  men,  because  it  is  the  foundation 
of  the  high  philosophy  of  education.  It  places  the  duty  of 
imparting  it  upon  the  broad,  eternal  basis  of  natural  love.  It 
is  manifest  that,  in  the  provident  constitution  of  an  intellec- 
tual order  of  beings,  the  trust  of  preparing  each  generation, 
of  which  it  was  to  consist,  for  the  performance  of  its  part  on 
the  great  stage  of  life,  was  all-important,  all-essential ;  too 
vitally  so  to  be  put  in  charge  with  any  but  the  most  intimate 
principles  of  our  being.  It  has,  accordingly,  been  interwo- 
ven with  the  strongest  and  purest  passions  of  the  heart.  Ma- 
ternal fondness ;  a  father's  thoughtful  care  ;  the  unreasoning 
instincts  of  the  family  circle;  the  partialities,  the  prejudices 
of  blood,  —  are  all  made  to  operate,  as  efficient  principles,  by 
which  the  risen  generation  is  urged  to  take  care  of  its  suc- 
cessor ;  and,  when  the  subject  is  pursued  to  its  last  analysis, 
we  find  that  education,  in  its  most  comprehensive  form, — 
the  general  training  and  preparation  of  our  successors,  —  is 
the  great  errand  which  we  have  to  execute  in  the  world.  We 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

either  assume  it  as  our  primary  business,  or  depute  it  to 
others,  because  we  think  they  will  better  perform  it.  Much 
of  the  practical  and  professional  part  we  direct  ourselves.  We 
come  back  to  it  as  a  relaxation  or  a  solace.  We  labor  to  pro- 
vide the  means  of  supplying  it  to  those  we  love.  We  retrench 
in  our  pleasures,  that  we  may  abound  in  this  duty.  It  ani- 
mates our  toils,  dignifies  our  selfishness,  makes  our  parsimo- 
ny generous,  furnishes  the  theme  for  the  efforts  of  the  great- 
est minds,  and,  directly  or  indirectly,  fills  up  no  small  part  of 
our  lives. 

In  a  word,  then,  we  have  before  us,  as  the  work  to  be  done 
by  this  generation,  to  train  up  that  which  is  to  succeed  us. 

This  is  a  work  of  boundless  compass,  difficulty,  and  inter- 
est. Considered  as  brethren  of  the  human  family,  it  looks, 
of  course,  to  the  education  of  all  mankind.  If  we  confine 
ourselves  to  our  duty  as  American  citizens,  the  task  is  mo- 
mentous, almost  beyond  the  power  of  description.  Though 
the  view  which  I  would,  at  this  time,  take  of  the  subject, 
does  not  confine  itself  to  the  fortunes  of  a  single  nation,  I 
will  dwell  upon  it,  for  a  moment,  exclusively  in  relation 
to  this  country.  I  will  suppose  that  our  Union  is  to  remain 
unbroken  for  another  generation  —  a  supposition  which,  I  trust, 
I  may  safely  make ;  and  if  this  should  be  the  case,  it  is  no 
violent  presumption  to  suppose  that,  in  all  respects,  the  coun- 
try will  continue  to  advance  with  a  rapidity  equal  to  that 
which  has  marked  its  progress  for  the  last  thirty  years.  On 
this  supposition,  the  close  of  another  generation  will  see  our 
population  swelled  to  above  thirty  millions ;  all  our  public 
establishments  increased  in  the  same  ratio  ;  four  or  five  new 
states  added  to  the  Union  ;  towns  and  villages  scattered  over 
regions  now  lying  in  the  unbroken  solitude  of  nature ;  roads 
cut  across  pathless  mountains ;  rivers,  now  unexplored,  a  ive 
with  steamers ;  and  all  those  parts  of  the  country,  which,  at 
this  time,  are  partially  settled,  crowded  with  a  much  denser 
population,  with  all  its  attendant  structures,  establishments, 
and  institutions.  In  other  words,  besides  replacing  the  pres- 
ent numbers,  a  new  nation,  more  than  fifteen  millions  strong, 
will  exist  within  the  United  States.  The  wealth  of  the 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  413 

country  will  increase  still  more  rapidly ;  and  all  the  springs 
of  social  life,  which  capital  moves,  will,  of  course,  increase 
in  power ;  and  a  much  more  intense  condition  of  existence 
will  be  the  result. 

It  is  for  this  state  of  things  that  the  present  generation  is 
to  educate  and  train  its  successors ;  and  on  the  care  and  skill 
with  which  their  education  is  conducted,  on  the  liberality, 
magnanimity,  and  single-heartedness,  with  which  we  go  about 
this  great  work,  each  in  his  proper  sphere,  and  according  to 
his  opportunities  and  vocation,  will,  of  course,  depend  the 
honor  and  success  with  which  those  who  come  after  us  will 
perform  their  parts  on  the  stage  of  life. 

This  reflection  of  itself  would  produce  a  deep  impression 
of  the  importance  of  the  great  work  of  education,  to  be  per- 
formed by  the  present  generation  of  men.  But  we  must 
further  take  into  consideration,  in  order  to  the  perfect  under- 
standing of  the  subject,  the  quality  of  that  principle  which 
is  to  receive,  and  of  that  which  is  to  impart,  the  education  ; 
that  is,  of  the  mind  of  this  age  acting  upon  the  mind  of 
the  next ;  both  of  natures  infinitely  expansive  in  their  ca- 
pacities of  action  and  apprehension ;  natures,  whose  pow- 
ers have  never  been  defined ;  whose  depths  have  never  been 
sounded ;  whose  orbit  can  be  measured  only  by  that  superior 
intelligence  which  has  assigned  its  limits,  if  limits  it  have. 
When  we  consider  this,  we  gain  a«  vastly  extended  and  ele- 
vated notion  of  the  duty  which  is  to  be  performed.  It  is 
nothing  less  than  to  put  in  action  the  entire  mental  power  of 
the  present  day,  in  its  utmost  stretch,  consistent  with  happi- 
ness and  virtue,  and  so  as  to  develop  and  form  the  utmost 
amount  of  capacity,  intelligence,  and  usefulness,  of  intellec- 
tual and  moral  power  and  happiness,  in  that  which  is  to  fol- 
low. We  are  not  merely  to  transmit  the  world  as  we  receive 
it ;  to  teach,  in  a  stationary  repetition,  the  arts  which  we 
have  received ;  as  the  dove  builds,  this  year,  just  such  a  nest 
as  was  built  by  the  dove  that  went  out  from  the  ark,  when 
the  waters  had  abated ;  but  we  are  to  apply  the  innumerable 
discoveries,  inventions,  and  improvements,  which  have  been 
successively  made  in  the  world,  —  and  never  more  than  of 


414  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

late  years,  —  and  combine  and  elaborate  them  into  one  grand 
system  of  condensed  efficacy  and  quickened  vitality,  in  form- 
ing and  bringing  forward  our  successors. 

These  considerations  naturally  suggest  the  inquiry,  How 
much  can  be  done,  by  a  proper  exertion  of  our  powers  and 
capacities,  to  improve  the  condition  of  our  successors  ?  Is 
there  reason  to  hope  that  any  great  advances  can  be  made  ? 
that  any  considerable  stride  can  be  taken,  by  the  moral  and 
intellectual  agency  of  this  age,  as  exerted  in  influencing  the 
character  of  the  next  ? 

I  know  of  no  way  to  deal  practically  with  this  great  prob- 
lem, but  to  ask  more  particularly,  What  is  effected  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  intellectual  action  and  reaction  ?  What 
is  the  average  amount  of  the  phenomena  of  education,  in 
their  final  result,  which  the  inspection  of  society  presents  to 
us?  How  much  is  effected,  so  frequently  and  certainly  as  to 
authorize  a  safe  inference,  as  to  what  may  be  done,  in  the 
ordinary  progress  of  the  mind,  and  conjectures  as  to  its  pos- 
sible strides,  bounds,  and  flights  ? 

We  can  make  this  inquiry  on  no  other  assumed  basis  but 
that  of  the  natural  average  equality  of  all  men,  as  rational 
and  improvable  beings.  I  do  not  mean  that  all  men  are 
created  with  a  physical  and  intellectual  constitution  capable 
of  attaining,  with  the  same  opportunities,  the  same  degree  of 
improvement.  I  cannot  assert  that,  nor  would  I  willingly 
undertake  to  disprove  it.  I  leave  it  aside  ;  and  suppose,  that, 
on  an  average,  men  are  born  with  equal  capacities.  What, 
then,  do  we  behold,  as  regards  the  difference  resulting  from 
education  and  training  ?  Let  us  take  examples  in  the  two 
extremes.  On  the  one  hand,  we  have  the  most  degraded 
savage  ;  but  little  better,  in  appearance,  than  the  orang  outang, 
his  fellow-tenant  of  the  woods,  which  afford  much  the  same 
shelter  for  both  ;  almost  destitute  of  arts,  except  that  of 
horribly  disfiguring  the  features  by  the  painful  and  disgusting 
process  of  tattooing,  and  that  of  preparing  a  rude  war-club, 
with  which  he  destroys  his  fellow-savage  of  the  neighboring 
tribe,  —  his  natural  enemy  while  he  lives,  his  food  if  he  can 
conquer  or  kidnap  him  ;  laying  up  no  store  of  provision,  but 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  415 

one  which  I  scarce  dare  describe,  —  which  consists  in  plung- 
ing a  stick  into  the  water,  where  it  is  soon  eaten  to  honey- 
comb by  the  worms  that  abound  in  tropical  climates,  and 
which,  when  taken  out,  furnishes,  in  these  worms,  a  supply 
of  their  most  favorite  food  to  these  forlorn  children  of  nature. 
Such  is  this  creature,  from  youth  to  age,  from  father  to  son,  — 
a  savage,  a  cannibal,  a  brute  ;  a  human  being,  a  fellow-man, 
a  rational  and  immortal  soul ;  carrying  about,  under  that 
squalid,  loathsome  exterior,  hidden  under  those  brutal  man- 
ners and  vices,  at  once  disgusting  and  abominable,  a  portion 
of  the  intellectual  principle  which  likens  man  to  his  Maker. 

This  is  one  specimen  of  humanity  :  how  shall  we  bring 
another  into  immediate  contrast  with  it  ?  How  better,  than 
by  contemplating  what  may  be  witnessed  on  board  the  vessel 
which  carries  the  enlightened  European  or  American  to  the 
dark  and  dreary  corners  of  the  earth  inhabited  by  these 
unhappy  fellow-beings  ?  You  there  behold  a  majestic  vessel 
bounding  over  the  billows,  from  the  other  side  of  the  globe  ; 
easily  fashioned  to  float  in  safety  over  the  bottomless  sea ;  to 
spread  out  her  broad  wings,  and  catch  the  midnight  breeze, 
guided  by  a  single  watchful  sailor  at  the  helm,  with  two  or 
three  companions  reclining  listlessly  on  the  deck,  gazing  into 
the  depths  of  the  starry  heavens.  The  commander  of  this 
vessel,  not  surpassing  thousands  of  his  brethren  in  intelligence 
and  skill,  knows  how,  by  pointing  his  glass  at  the  heavens, 
and  taking  an  observation  of  the  stars,  and  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  his  "  Practical  Navigator,"  and  making  a  few 
figures  on  his  slate,  to  tell  the  spot  which  his  vessel  has 
reached  on  the  trackless  sea ;  and  he  can  also  tell  it  by  means 
of  a  steel  spring  and  a  few  brass  wheels,  put  together  in  the 
shape  of  a  chronometer.  The  glass  with  which  he  brings 
the  heavens  down  to  the  earth,  and  by  which  he  measures 
the  twenty-one  thousand  six  hundredth  part  of  their  circuit, 
is  made  of  a  quantity  of  silex  and  alkali,  —  coarse,  opaque 
substances,  which  he  has  melted  together  into  the  beautiful 
medium  which  excludes  the  air  and  the  rain,  and  admits  the 
light,  —  by  means  of  which  he  can  count  the  orders  of 
animated  nature  in  a  dew-drop,  and  measure  the  depth  of  the 


416  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

valleys  in  the  moon.  He  has  running  up  and  down  his  main- 
mast an  iron  chain,  fabricated,  by  a  wonderful  succession  of 
mechanical  contrivances,  out  of  a  rock  brought  from  deep 
caverns  in  the  earth,  and  which  has  the  power  of  conducting 
the  lightning  harmlessly  down  the  sides  of  the  vessel  into  the 
sea.  He  does  not  creep  timidly  along  from  headland  to  head- 
land, nor  guide  his  course  across  a  narrow  sea,  by  the  north 
star  ;  but  he  launches  bravely  on  the  pathless  and  bottomless 
deep,  and  carries  about  with  him,  in  a  box,  a  faithful  little 
pilot,  which  points  from  the  other  side  of  the  globe,  through 
the  convex  earth,  to  the  steady  pole.  If  he  falls  in  with  a 
pirate,  he  does  not  wait  to  repel  him,  hand  to  hand  ;  but  he 
puts  into  a  mighty  engine  a  handful  of  dark  powder,  in  which 
is  condensed  an  immense  quantity  of  elastic  air,  and  which, 
when  it  is  touched  by  a  spark  of  fire,  will  immeasurably 
expand  its  volume,  and  drive  an  artificial  thunderbolt  before 
it.  against  the  distant  enemy.  When  he  meets  another  simi- 
lar vessel  on  the  sea,  homeward  bound  from  an  excursion  like 
his  own,  he  makes  a  few  black  marks  on  a  piece  of  paper, 
and  sends  it  home,  a  distance  of  ten  thousand  miles  ;  and 
thereby  speaks  to  his  employer,  to  his  family,  and  his  friends, 
as  distinctly  and  significantly  as  if  they  were  seated  by  his 
side.  At  the  cost  of  half  the  labor  with  which  the  savage 
procures  himself  the  skin  of  a  wild  beast,  to  cover  his  naked- 
ness, this  child  of  civilized  life  has  provided  himself  with  the 
most  substantial,  curious,  and  convenient  clothing,  textures 
and  tissues  of  wool,  cotton,  linen,  and  silk,  the  contributions 
of  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  and  of  every  kingdom  of 
nature.  To  fill  a  vacant  hour,  or  dispel  a  gathering  cloud 
from  his  spirits,  he  has  curious  instruments  of  music,  which 
speak  another  language,  of  new  and  strange  significance,  to 
his  heart ;  which  make  his  veins  thrill,  and  his  eyes  overflow 
with  tears,  without  the  utterance  of  a  word  ;  and,  with  a 
sweet  succession  of  harmonious  sounds,  send  his  heart  back, 
over  the  waste  of  waters,  to  the  distant  home,  where  his  wife 
and  his  children  are  gathered  around  the  fireside,  trembling  at 
the  thought  that  the  storm  which  beats  upon  the  windows 
may,  perhaps,  overtake  their  beloved  voyager  on  the  distant 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  417 

seas.  And  in  his  cabin  he  has  a  library  of  volumes,  the 
strange  production  of  a  machine  of  almost  magical  powers, 
which,  as  he  turns  over  their  leaves,  wiable  him  to  converse 
with  the  great  and  good  of  every  clime  and  age,  and  which 
even  repeat  to  him,  in  audible  notes,  the  laws  of  his  God  and 
the  promises  of  his  Savior,  and  point  out  to  him  that  happy 
land  which  he  hopes  to  reach,  when  his  flag  is  struck  and  his 
sails  are  furled,  and  the  voyage  of  life  is  over. 

The  imaginations  of  those  whom  I  have  the  honor  to  ad- 
dress, will  be  able  to  heighten  this  contrast,  by  a  hundred 
traits  on  either  side,  for  which  I  have  not  time ;  but  even  as 
I  have  presented  it,  will  it  be  deemed  extravagant,  if  I  say 
that  there  is  a  greater  difference  between  the  educated  child 
of  civilized  life  and  the  most  degraded  savage,  than  between 
that  savage  and  the  orang  outang  ?  And  yet  the  savage  was 
born  a  rational  being,  like  the  civilized  European  and  Amer- 
ican ;  and  the  civilized  European  and  American  entered  life, 
like  the  savage,  a  helpless,  wailing  babe. 

This,  then,  is  the  difference  made  by  education.  I  do  not 
mean,  that  if  a  school  were  set  up  in  New  Zealand,  you  could 
convert  the  rising  generation  of  savage  children,  in  eight  or 
ten  years,  into  a  civilized,  well-educated,  orderly  society.  I 
will  not  undertake  to  say  what  could  be  done  with  an  indi- 
vidual of  that  race,  taken  at  birth,  and  brought  to  a  Christian 
country,  and  there  reared  under  the  most  favorable  circum- 
stances ;  nor  do  I  know  into  what  sort  of  a  being  one  of  our 
children  would  grow  up,  supposing  it  could  survive  the  exper- 
iment, were  it  taken  from  the  nurse's  arms,  and  put  in  charge 
to  a  tribe  of  New  Zealanders.  But  it  is,  upon  the  whole, 
education,  in  the  most  comprehensive  sense,  which,  in  the 
lapse  of  time,  makes  the  vast  difference  which  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  illustrate,  and  which  actually,  in  the  case  of  a  civilized 
person,  transforms  his  intellect  from  what  it  is  at  birth,  into 
what  it  becomes  in  the  mature,  consummate  man. 

These  reflections  teach  us  what  education  ordinarily  ac- 
complishes. They  illustrate  its  power,  as  measured  by  its 
effects.  Let  us  now  make  a  single  remark  on  its  prodigious 
efficacy,  measured  by  the  shortness  of  the  time  within  which 
VOL.  i.  53 


418  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

it  produces  its  wonders.  When  we  contemplate  the  vast 
amount  of  the  arts,  useful  and  mechanical,  elegant  and  liter- 
ary; the  sciences,  pure  and  mixed,  and  of  the  knowledge, 
practical  and  speculative,  belonging  to  them ;  a  portion  of 
which  —  sometimes  a  very  large  portion  —  is  within  the 
command  of  any  well-educated  person  ;  the  wonder  we  should 
naturally  feel,  may  be  a  little  abated  by  the  consideration  that 
this  is  the  accumulated  product  of  several  thousand  years  of 
study,  the  fruits  of  which  have  been  recorded,  or  transmitted 
by  tradition  from  age  to  age.  But  when  we  reflect  again  upon 
the  subject,  we  find  that,  though  this  knowledge  has  been 
for  four  or  five  thousand  years  in  the  process  of  accumula- 
tion, and  consists  of  the  condensed  contributions  of  great  and 
gifted  minds,  or  of  the  mass  of  average  intellect  transmitted 
from  race  to  race,  since  the  dawn  of  letters  and  arts  in  Phce- 
nicia  and  Egypt,  it  is  nevertheless  mastered  by  each  individ- 
ual, if  at  all,  in  the  compass  of  a  few  years.  It  is  in  the 
world,  but  it  is  not  inherited  by  any  one.  Men  are  born  rich, 
but  not  learned.  The  La  Place  of  this  generation  did  not 
come  into  life  with  the  knowledge  possessed  and  recorded  by 
the  Newtons,  the  Kepplers,  and  the  Pythagorases  of  other 
days.  It  is  doubtful  whether,  at  three  years  old,  he  could 
count  much  beyond  ten ;  and  if.  at  six,  he  was  acquainted 
with  any  other  cycloidal  curves  than  those  generated  by  the 
trundling  of  his  hoop,  he  was  a  prodigy  indeed.  But  by  the 
time  he  was  twenty-one,  he  had  mastered  all  the  discoveries 
of  all  the  philosophers  who  preceded  him,  and  was  prepared 
to  build  upon  them  the  splendid  superstructure  of  his  own. 
In  like  manner,  the  whole  race  of  men  who,  thirty  years 
hence,  are  to  be  the  active  members  of  society,  and  some  of 
them  its  guides  and  leaders,  —  its  Mansfields  and  Burkes,  its 
Ellsworths,  Marshalls,  and  Websters, — the  entire  educated 
and  intelligent  population,  which  will  have  prepared  itself 
with  the  knowledge  requisite  for  carrying  on  the  business  of 
life,  is,  at  this  moment,  enacting  the  part  of 

-"the  whining  school  boy,  with  his  satchel 


And  shining  morning  face,  creeping,  like  snail, 
Unwillingly  to  school." 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  419 

Our  future  Ciceros  are  mewling  infants  ;  and  our  Arkwrights 
and  Fultons,  who  are  hereafter  to  unfold  to  our  children  new 
properties  of  matter,  new  forces  of  the  elements,  new  appli- 
cations of  the  mechanical  powers,  which  may  change  the  con- 
dition of  things,  are  now,  under  the  tuition  of  a  careful  nurse, 
with  the  safeguard  of  a  pair  of  leading-strings,  attempting 
the  perilous  experiment  of  putting  one  foot  before  the  other. 
Yes,  the  ashes  that  now  moulder  in  yonder  graveyard,  the 
sole  remains  on  earth  of  what  was  Whitney,*  are  not  more 
unconscious  of  the  stretch  of  the  mighty  mind  which  they 
once  enclosed,  than  the  infant  understandings  of  those  now 
springing  into  life,  who  are  destined  to  follow  in  the  luminous 
track  of  his  genius,  to  new  and  still  more  brilliant  results  in 
the  service  of  man  ! 

When  we  consider,  in  this  way,  how  much  is  effected  by 
education,  and  in  how  short  a  time,  for  the  individual  and  the 
community,  and  thence  deduce  some  not  inadequate  concep- 
tion of  its  prodigious  efficiency  and  power,  we  are  irresistibly 
led  to  another  reflection  upon  its  true  nature.  We  feel  that 
it  cannot  be  so  much  an  act  of  the  teacher  as  an  act  of  the 
pupil.  It  is  not,  that  the  master,  possessing  this  knowledge, 
has  poured  it  out  of  his  own  mind  into  that  of  the  learner ; 
but  the  learner,  by  the  native  power  of  apprehension,  judi- 
ciously trained  and  wisely  disciplined,  beholds,  comprehends 
and  appropriates  what  is  set  before  him,  in  form  and  order : 
and  not  only  so,  but,  with  the  first  quickenings  of  the  intel- 
lect, commences  himself  the  creative  and  inventive  processes. 
There  is  not  the  least  doubt  that  the  active  mind,  judiciously 
trained,  in  reality  sometimes  invents  for  itself  not  a  little  oi 
that  which,  being  already  previously  known  and  recorded,  is 
regarded  as  a  part  of  the  existing  stock  of  knowledge.  From 
this  principle,  also,  we  are  led  to  an  easy  explanation  of  those 
curious  appearances  of  simultaneous  discoveries  in  art  and 
science,  of  which  literary  history  records  many  examples,  — 
such  as  the  rival  pretensions  of  Newton  and  Leibnitz,  of 

Eli  Whitney,  the  inventor  of  the  cotton-gin,  died   January  8, 
•md  was  buried  at  New  Haven. 


420  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

Priestley  and  Lavoisier,  of  Bell  and  Lancaster,  of  Young  and 
Champollion,  —  which  show  that  at  any  given  period,  es- 
pecially in  a  state  of  society  favorable  to  the  rapid  diffusion 
of  knowledge,  the  laws  of  the  human  mind  are  so  sure  and 
regular,  that  it  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  different  per- 
sons, in  different  countries,  to  fall  into  the  same  train  of  re- 
flection and  thought,  and  to  come  to  results  and  discoveries 
which,  injuriously  limiting  the  creative  powers  of  the  intel- 
lect, we  are  ready  to  ascribe  to  imitation  or  plagiarism. 

It  is,  indeed,  true,  that  one  of  the  great  secrets  of  the 
power  of  education,  in  its  application  to  large  numbers,  is, 
that  it  is  a  mutual  work.  Man  has  three  teachers  —  the 
schoolmaster,  himself,  his  neighbor.  The  instructions  of  the 
first  two  commence  together  ;  and  long  after  the  functions  of 
the  schoolmaster  have  been  discharged,  the  duties  of  the  last 
two  go  on  together ;  and  what  they  effect  is  vastly  more 
important  than  the  work  of  the  teacher,  if  estimated  by  the 
amount  of  knowledge  self-acquired,  or  caught  from  the  col- 
lision or  sympathy  of  other  minds,  compared  with  that  which 
is  directly  imparted  by  the  schoolmaster,  in  the  morning  of 
life.  In  fact,  what  we  learn  at  school  and  in  college  is  but 
the  foundation  of  the  great  work  of  self-instruction  and 
mutual  instruction,  with  which  the  real  education  of  life 
begins,  when  what  is  commonly  called  the  education  is  fin- 
ished. The  daily  intercourse  of  cultivated  minds ;  the 
emulous  exertions  of  the  fellow-votaries  of  knowledge  ;  con- 
troversy ;  the  inspiring  sympathy  of  a  curious  and  intelligent 
public,  —  unite  in  putting  each  individual  intellect  to  the 
stretch  of  its  capacity.  A  hint,  a  proposition,  an  inquiry, 
proceeding  from  one  mind,  awakens  new  trains  of  thought  in 
a  kindred  mind,  surveying  the  subject  from  other  points  of 
view,  and  with  other  habits  and  resources  of  illustration  ;  and 
thus  truth  is  constantly  multiplied  and  propagated  by  the 
mutual  action  and  reaction  of  the  thousands  engaged  in  its 
pursuit.  Hence  the  phenomena  of  Periclean,  Augustan,  and 
Medicean  ages,  and  golden  eras  of  improvement ;  and  hence 
the  education  of  each  individual  mind,  instead  of  being  merely 
the  addition  of  one  to  the  well-instructed  and  well-informed 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  421 

members  of  the  community,  is  the  introduction  of  another 
member  into  the  great  family  of  intellects,  each  of  which  is 
a  point,  not  only  bright,  but  radiant,  and  competent  to  throw 
off  the  beams  of  light  and  truth  in  every  direction.  Mechan- 
ical forces,  from  the  moment  they  are  put  in  action,  by  the 
laws  of  matter  grow  fainter  and  fainter  till  they  are  exhausted. 
With  each  new  application,  something  of  their  intensity  is 
consumed.  It  can  only  be  kept  up  by  a  continued  or  repeated 
resort  to  the  source  of  power.  Could  Archimedes  have  found 
his  place  to  stand  upon,  and  a  lever  with  which  he  could 
heave  the  earth  from  its  orbit,  the  utmost  he  could  have  ef- 
fected would  have  been  to  make  it  fall,  a  dead  weight,  into 
the  sun.  Not  so  the  intellectual  energy.  If  wisely  exerted, 
its  exercise,  instead  of  exhausting,  increases  its  strength  ;  and 
not  only  this,  but,  as  it  moves  onward  from  mind  to  mind,  it 
awakens  each  to  the  same  sympathetic,  self-propagating  action. 
The  circle  spreads  in  every  direction.  Diversity  of  language 
does  not  check  the  progress  of  the  great  instructor,  for  he 
speaks  in  other  tongues,  and  gathers  new  powers  from  the 
response  of  other  schools  of  civilization.  The  pathless  ocean 
does  not  impede,  it  accelerates  his  progress.  Space  imposes 
no  barrier,  time  no  period  to  his  efforts ;  and  ages  on  ages 
after  the  poor  clay  in  which  the  creative  intellect  was  en- 
shrined has  mouldered  back  to  its  kindred  dust,  the  truths 
which  it  has  unfolded,  moral  or  intellectual,  are  holding  on 
their  pathway  of  light  and  glory,  awakening  other  minds  to 
the  same  heavenly  career. 

But  it  is  more  than  time  to  apply  these  principles  to  the 
condition  of  the  world,  as  it  now  exists,  and  to  inquire  what 
hope  there  is,  in  the  operation  of  this  mighty  engine,  of  a 
great  and  beneficial  progress  in  the  work  of  civilization. 

We  certainly  live  in  an  enlightened  age ;  one  in  which 
civilization  has  reached  a  high  point  of  advancement  and 
extension,  in  this  and  several  other  countries.  There  are 
several  nations  besides  our  own  where  the  Christian  religion, 
civil  government,  the  usual  branches  of  industry,  the  diffu- 
sion of  knowledge,  useful  and  ornamental,  and  of  the  fine 
arts,  have  done  and  are  doing  great  things  for  the  happiness 


422  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

of  man.  But  when  we  look  a  little  more  nearly,  it  mast  be 
confessed  that,  with  all  that  has  been  done  in  this  cause,  the 
work  which  still  remains  to  be  accomplished  is  very  great. 
The  population  of  the  globe  is  assumed,  in  the  more  moderate 
estimates,  to  be  seven  hundred  millions.  Of  these,  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  millions  are  set  down  for  America  and  Europe, 
and  the  residue  for  Asia  and  Africa.  Two  hundred  and  fifty 
millions,  again,  are  assumed  to  be  Christians ;  and  of  the  res- 
idue three  fourths  are  pagans.  There  is  certainly  a  consid- 
erable diversity  of  condition  among  the  various  Asiatic  and 
African,  who  are  also  the  unchristianized  races,  as  there  is 
also  among  the  European  and  American,  who  belong  to  the 
family  of  civilization  and  Christianity.  But  upon  the  whole, 
it  must  be  admitted,  that  about  two  thirds  of  mankind  are 
without  the  pale  of  civilization,  as  we  understand  it ;  and  of 
these  a  large  majority  are  pagan  savages,  or  the  slaves  of  the 
most  odious  and  oppressive  despotisms.  The  Chinese  and 
Hindoos,  who  make  up  two  thirds  of  this  division  of  man- 
kind, contain  within  their  vast  masses  perhaps  the  most  favor- 
able specimens  of  this  portion  of  the  human  family ;  and  if 
we  turn  from  them  to  the  Turks,  the  Tartars,  the  Persians, 
the  native  races  of  the  interior  of  Africa,  the  wretched  tribes 
on  the  coast,  or  the  degraded  population  of  Australia  or  Poly- 
nesia, we  shall  find  but  little  (except  in  the  recent  successful 
attempts  at  civilization)  on  which  the  eye  of  the  philanthro- 
pist can  rest  with  satisfaction.  Almost  all  is  dark,  cheerless, 
and  wretched. 

Nor  when  we  look  into  what  is  called  the  civilized  portion 
of  the  globe  is  the  prospect  as  much  improved  as  we  could 
wish.  The  broad  mantle  of  civilization,  like  that  of  charity, 
covers  much  which,  separately  viewed,  could  claim  no  title  to 
the  name.  Not  to  speak  of  the  native  tribes  of  America,  or  the 
nomadic  races  of  the  Russian  empire,  how  vast  and  perilous 
is  the  inequality  of  mental  condition  among  the  members  of 
the  civilized  states  of  the  earth !  Contemplate  the  peasan- 
try of  the  greater  part  of  the  north  of  Europe,  attached,  as 
property,  to  the  soil  on  which  they  were  born.  The  same 
class,  in  some  parts  of  the  Austrian  dominions,  in  Spuir1,  ir. 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

Portugal,  if  not  held  in  precisely  the  same  state  of  political 
disability,  are  probably  to  a  very  slight  degree  more  improved 
in  their  mental  condition.  In  the  middle  and  western  states 
of  Europe,  —  France,  Holland.  Germany,  and  Great  Britain, 
—  although  the  laboring  population  is  certainly  in  a  more 
elevated  and  happier  state  than  in  the  countries  just  named, 
yet  how  little  opportunity  for  mental  improvement  do  even 
they  possess !  We  know  that  they  pass  their  lives  in  labors 
of  the  most  unremitted  character,  from  which  they  derive 
nothing  but  the  means  of  a  most  scanty  support ;  constantly 
relapsing  into  want  at  the  slightest  reverse  of  fortune,  or  on 
the  occurrence  of  the  first  severe  casualty. 

Then  consider  the  character  of  a  large  portion  of  the  pop- 
ulation of  the  great  cities  of  all  countries,  —  London,  Paris, 
St  Petersburg,  Vienna,  —  where  the  extremes  of  human  condi- 
tion stand  in  painful  juxtaposition ;  and  by  the  side  of  some 
specimens  of  all  that  adorns  and  exalts  humanity,  —  the  glory 
of  our  species,  —  we  find  the  large  mass  of  the  population 
profoundly  ignorant  and  miserably  poor,  and  no  small  part  of 
it  sunk  to  the  depths  of  want  and  vice.  It  is  painful  to 
reflect,  in  this  age  of  refinement,  how  near  the  two  opposite 
conditions  of  our  nature  may  be  brought,  without  the  least 
communication  of  a  direct  genial  influence  from  one  to  the 
other.  If  any  thing  were  necessary,  beyond  the  slightest 
inspection  of  obvious  facts,  to  show  the  artificial  structure  of 
the  society  in  which  we  live,  and  the  need  of  some  great  and 
generous  process  of  renovation,  it  would  be  the  reflection, 
that,  if  a  man  wished  to  explore  the  very  abyss  of  human 
degradation,  to  find  how  low  one  could  get  in  the  scale  of 
nature  without  going  beneath  the  human  race ;  if  he  wished 
to  find  every  want,  every  pang,  every  vice  which  can  unite 
to  convert  a  human  being  into  a  suffering,  loathsome  brute  ; 
he  would  not  have  to  wander  to  the  cannibal  tribes  of  Austra- 
lia, already  described,  nor  to  the  dens  of  the  Bushmen  of  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope.  He  would  need  only  to  take  a  ten 
steps'  walk  from  Westminster  Abbey  or  the  Tuileries,  to 
strike  off  for  half  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  almost  any  direction 


124  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

from  the  very  focus  of  all  that  is  elegant  and  refined,  the 
pride  and  happiness  of  life,  in  London  or  Paris. 

The  painful  impressions  produced  by  these  melancholy 
truths  are  increased  by  the  consideration,  that,  in  some  parts 
of  the  world,  civilization  has  gone  backward.  Who  can 
think  of  the  former  condition  of  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean, and  not  feel  a  momentary  anxiety  for  the  fortunes  of 
the  race  ?  In  ancient  times,  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean, 
all  around,  were  civilized,  after  the  type  of  that  day,  flourish- 
ing and  happy.  In  this  favored  region,  the  human  mind  was 
developed,  in  many  of  its  faculties,  to  an  extent  and  with  a 
beauty  never  surpassed,  and  scarcely  ever  equalled.  Greece 
was  the  metropolis  of  this  great  intellectual  republic  ;  and, 
through  her  letters  and  her  arts,  extended  the  domain  of  civ- 
ilization to  Asia  Minor  and  Syria,  to  Egypt  and  Africa,  to 
Italy  and  Sicily,  and  even  to  Gallia  and  Iberia.  What  a 
state  of  the  world  it  was,  when  all  around  this  wide  circuit, 
whithersoever  the  traveller  directed  his  steps,  he  found  cities 
filled  with  the  beautiful  creations  of  the  architect  and  the 
sculptor ;  marble  temples,  in  the  grandest  dimensions  and 
finest  proportions  ;  statues,  whose  poor  and  mutilated  frag- 
ments are  the  models  of  modern  art !  Wheresoever  he 
sojourned,  he  found  the  schools  of  philosophy  crowded  with 
disciples,  and  heard  the  theatres  ringing  with  the  inspirations 
of  the  Attic  muse,  and  the  forum  eloquent  with  orators  of 
consummate  skill  and  classic  renown.  We  are  too  apt,  in 
forming  our  notions  of  the  height  of  Grecian  civilization,  to 
confine  our  thoughts  to  a  few  renowned  cities,  or  to  Athens 
alone.  But  not  only  Greece,  but  the  islands,  Sicily  and 
Magna  Graecia,  round  all  their  coasts,  the  Ionian  shore,  the 
remote  interior  of  Asia  Minor  and  Syria  almost  to  the  Eu- 
phrates, the  entire  course  of  the  Nile  up  to  its  cataracts,  and 
Libya  far  into  the  desert,  were  filled  with  populous  and  culti- 
vated cities.  Places  whose  names  can  scarcely  be  traced  but 
in  an  index  of  ancient  geography,  abounded  in  all  the  stores 
of  art,  and  all  the  resources  of  instruction.,  in  the  time  of 
Cicero.  He  makes  one  of  the  chief  sneakers  in  the  Orator 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  425 

say,  "  At  the  present  day,  all  Asia  imitates  Menecles  of  Ala- 
banda,  and  his  brother,"  —  orator,  brother,  and  place,  now 
alike  forgotten !  Cicero  himself  studied,  not  only  under 
Philo  the  Athenian,  but  Milo  the  Rhodian,  Menippus  of 
Stratonice,  Dionysius  of  Magnesia,  JEschylus  of  Cnidus,  and 
Xenocles  of  Adramyttium.  These  were  the  masters,  the 
schools,  of  Cicero  !  Forgotten  names,  perished  cities,  abodes 
of  art  and  eloquence,  of  which  the  memory  is  scarcely  pre- 
served ! 

What,  then,  is  the  hope,  that  much  can  be  effected,  in  the 
promotion  of  the  great  object  of  the  improvement  of  man,  by 
the  instrumentality  of  education,  as  we  have  described  it  ? 
And  here  I  am  willing  to  own  myself  an  enthusiast ;  and  all 
I  ask  is,  that  men  will  have  the  courage  to  follow  the  light 
of  general  principles,  and  patience  for  great  effects  to  flow 
from  mighty  causes.  If,  after  establishing  the  great  truths  of 
the  prodigious  power  of  the  principles  by  which  the  education 
of  the  world  is  to  be  achieved,  men  suffer  themselves  to  be 
perplexed  by  apparent  exceptions  ;  and,  especially,  if  they 
will  insist  upon  beginning,  carrying  on,  and  completing,  them- 
selves, every  thing  which  they  propose  or  conceive  for  human 
improvement,  forgetful  that  humanity,  religion,  national  char- 
acter, literature,  and  the  influence  of  the  arts,  are  great  con- 
cerns, spreading  out  over  a  lapse  of  ages,  and  infinite  in  their 
perfectibility  ;  then,  indeed,  the  experience  of  one  short  life 
can  teach  nothing  but  despair. 

But,  if  we  will  do  justice  to  the  power  of  the  great  princi- 
ples which  I  have  attempted  to  develop,  that  are  at  work  for 
the  education  of  man  ;  if  we  will  study  the  causes,  which,  in 
other  times,  have  retarded  his  progress,  which  seem,  in  some 
large  portions  of  the  globe,  to  doom  him,  even  now,  to  hope- 
less barbarity  ;  and  if  we  will  duly  reflect,  that  what  seems 
to  be  a  retrograde  step  in  the  march  of  civilization,  is  some- 
times (as  most  memorably  in  the  downfall  of  the  Roman 
empire)  the  peculiar  instrumentality  with  which  a  still  more 
comprehensive  work  of  reform  is  carried  on,  we  shall  have 
ample  reason  to  conceive  the  brightest  hopes  for  the  progress 
of  our  race  ;  for  the  introduction  within  th<  pale  of  civiliza- 
VOL.  i.  54 


426  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

tion  of  its  benighted  regions,  and  the  effective  regeneration 
of  all. 

We  have  now  in  our  possession  three  instruments  of  civ- 
'lization  unknown  to  antiquity,  of  power  separately  to  work 
almost  any  miracle  of  improvement,  and  the  united  force  of 
which  is  adequate  to  the  achievement  of  any  thing  not  mor- 
ally and  physically  impossible.  These  are,  the  art  of  print- 
ing, a  sort  of  mechanical  magic  for  the  diffusion  of  knowl- 
edge ;  free  representative  government,  a  perpetual  regulator 
and  equalizer  of  human  condition,  the  inequalities  of  which 
are  the  great  scourge  of  society ;  and,  lastly,  a  pure  and  spir- 
itual religion,  the  deep  fountain  of  generous  enthusiasm,  the 
mighty  spring  of  bold  and  lofty  designs,  the  great  sanctuary 
of  moral  power.  The  want  of  one  or  all  of  these  satisfac- 
torily explains  the  vicissitudes  of  the  ancient  civilization  ; 
and  the  possession  of  them  all  as  satisfactorily  assures  the 
permanence  of  that  which  has  been  for  some  centuries,  and 
is  now,  going  on,  and  warrants  the  success  of  the  great  work 
of  educating  the  world.  Does  any  one  suppose  that,  if 
knowledge  among  the  Greeks,  instead  of  being  confined  to 
the  cities,  and,  in  them,  to  a  few  professional  sophists  and 
rich  slaveholders,  had  pervaded  the  entire  population,  in  that 
and  the  neighboring  countries,  as  it  is  made  to  do  in  modern 
times  by  the  press  ;  if,  instead  of  their  anomalous,  ill-balanced, 
tumultuary  democracies  and  petty  military  tyrannies,  they 
had  been  united  in  a  well-digested  system  of  representative 
government,  they  and  the  states  around  them,  Persia,  Mace- 
donia, and  Rome ;  and  if,  to  all  these  principles  of  political 
stability,  they  had,  instead  of  their  corrupting  and  degrading 
superstitions,  been  blessed  with  the  light  of  a  pure  and  spir- 
itual faith,  —  does  any  one  suppose  that  Greece  and  Ionia, 
under  circumstances  like  these,  would  have  relapsed  into  bar- 
barism ?  Impossible.  The  PhoBnicians  invented  letters ;  but 
what  did  they  do  with  them  ?  Apply  them  to  the  record, 
the  diffusion,  transmission,  and  preservation  of  knowledge  ? 
Unhappily  for  them,  that  was  the  acquisition  of  a  far  subse- 
quent period.  The  wonderful  invention  of  alphabetical  writ- 
ing, was,  as  far  as  we  are  informed,  probably  applied  by  its 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  427 

authors  to  no  other  purpose,  than  to  carve  the  name  of  a  king 
on  his  rude  statue,  or  perhaps  to  record  some  simple  catalogue 
of  titles  on  the  walls  of  a  temple.  So  it  was  with  the 
Egyptians,  whose  hieroglyphics  have  recently  been  discov- 
ered to  be  an  alphabetical  character,  but  which  were  far  toe 
cumbrous  to  be  employed  for  an  extensive  and  popular  diffu- 
sion of  knowledge  ;  and  which,  with  all  the  wisdom  of  theii 
inventors,  are  not  certainly  known  to  have  been  used  foi 
the  composition  of  books.  It  was  the  freer  use  of  this  flex- 
ible instrument  of  knowledge,  which  gave  to  Greece  hei 
eminence ;  which  created  so  many  of  the  objects  of  her  na- 
tional pride  ;  and  redeemed  the  memory  of  her  distinguished 
sons  from  that  forgetfulness,  which  has  thrown  its  vast  pall 
over  the  great  and  brave  men  and  noble  deeds  of  the  mighty 
but  unlettered  states  of  antiquity.  No  one  thinks  that  the 
powerful  and  prosperous  nations  which  flourished  for  two 
thousand  years,  on  the  Nile  and  the  Euphrates,  were  destitute 
of  heroes,  patriots,  and  statesmen.  But,  for  want  of  a  pop- 
ular literature,  their  merits  and  fame  did  not,  at  the  time, 
incorporate  themselves  with  the  popular  character ;  and  for 
all  after  times  their  memory  lies  crushed,  with  their  ashes, 
beneath  their  mausoleums  and  pyramids.  The  mighty  cities 
they  built,  the  seats  of  their  power,  are  as  desolate  as  the 
cities  they  wasted.  The  races  of  men  whom  they  ruled  and 
arrayed  in  battle,  bound  in  an  iron  servitude,  degraded  by 
mean  superstitions,  sunk  before  the  first  invader ;  and  now, 
the  very  languages  on  whose  breath  their  glory  was  wafted 
from  Atlas  to  the  Indus,  are  lost  and  forgotten,  because  they 
were  never  impressed  on  the  undying  page  of  a  written  lit- 
srature. 

The  more  popular  nature  of  the  Grecian  literature  was 
evidently  the  cause  of  the  preservation  of  the  national  spirit 
of  the  Greeks,  and  with  it  of  their  political  existence. 
Greece,  it  is  true,  fell,  and  with  it  the  civilization  of  the 
ancient  world.  In  this,  it  may  seem  to  present  us  rather  an 
illustration  of  the  inefficiency,  than  of  the  power,  of  the  pre- 
servative principle  of  letters.  But  let  us  bear  in  mind,  in  the 
first  place,  that,  greatly  as  the  Greeks  excelled  the  Eastern 


428  EDUCATION     OF    MANKIND. 

nations  in  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  they  yet  fell  infinitely 
below  the  modern  world,  furnished  as  it  is  with  the  all-effi- 
cacious art  of  printing.  Still  more,  let  us  recollect  that,  if 
Greece,  in  her  fall,  affords  an  example  of  the  insufficiency  of 
the  ancient  civilization,  her  long,  glorious,  and  never  wholly 
unsuccessful  struggles,  and  her  recent  recovery  from  barba- 
rism, furnish  the  most  pleasing  proof,  that  there  is  a  life-spring 
of  immortality  in  the  combined  influence  of  letters,  freedom, 
and  religion. 

What  but  the  ever-living  power  of  literature  and  religion 
preserved  the  light  of  civilization  and  the  intellectual  stores 
of  the  past,  undiminished  in  Greece,  during  the  long  and 
dreary  ages  of  the  decline  and  downfall  of  the  Roman  em- 
pire ?  What  preserved  these  sterile  provinces  and  petty  islets 
from  sinking,  beyond  redemption,  in  the  gulf  of  barbarity  iri 
which  Gyrene,  and  Egypt,  and  Syria,  were  swallowed  up? 
It  was  Christianity  and  letters,  retreating  to  their  fastnesses 
on  mountain  tops,  and  in  secluded  valleys,  —  the  heights  of 
Athos,  the  peaks  of  Meteora,  the  caverns  of  Arcadia,  the 
secluded  cells  of  Patmos.  Here,  while  all  else  in  the  world 
seemed  swept  away  by  one  general  flood  of  barbarism,  civil 
discord,  and  military  oppression,  the  Greek  monks  of  the 
dark  ages  preserved  and  transcribed  their  Homers,  their  Platos, 
and  their  Plutarchs.  There  never  was,  strictly  speaking,  a 
dark  age  in  Greece.  Eustathius  wrote  his  commentaries  on 
Homer  in  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century.  That  surely,  if 
ever,  was  the  midnight  of  the  mind ;  but  it  was  clear  and 
serene  day  in  his  learned  cell ;  and  Italy,  proud  already  of 
her  Dante,  her  Boccaccio,  and  Petrarch,  her  Medicean  pat- 
ronage and  her  reviving  arts,  did  not  think  it  beneath  her  to 
sit  at  the  feet  of  the  poor  fugitives  from  the  final  downfall 
of  Constantinople. 

What  but  the  same  causes,  enforced  by  the  power  of  the 
press,  and  by  the  sympathy  with  Greece,  which  pervaded  the 
educated  community  of  the  modern  world,  has  accomplished 
«,he  political  restoration  of  that  country  ?  Thirteen  years  ago> 
it  lay  under  a  hopeless  despotism ;  its  native  inhabitants,  as 
such,  marked  out  for  oppression  and  plunder:  tolerated  in 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  429 

their  religion  for  the  sake  of  the  exactions  of  which  it  fur- 
nished the  occasion  ;  shut  out  from  the  hopes  and  honors  of 
social  life  ;  agriculture,  and  all  the  visible  and  tangible  means 
of  acquisition,  discountenanced  ;  commerce,  instead  of  lifting 
her  honored  front  like  an  ocean  queen,  as  she  does  here, 
creeping  furtively  from  islet  to  islet,  and  concealing  her  pre- 
carious gains ;  the  seas  infested  with  pirates,  and  the  land 
with  robbers  ;  the  inhabitants  exhibiting  a  strange  mixture 
of  the  virtues  of  the  bandit  and  the  vices  of  the  slave,  but 
possessing,  in  generous  transmission  from  better  days,  some 
elements  of  a  free  and  enlightened  people.  Such  was  Greece 
thirteen  years  ago ;  and  the  prospect  of  throwing  off  the 
Turkish  yoke,  in  every  respect  but  this  last,  was  as  wild  and 
chimerical,  as  the  effort  to  throw  off  the  Cordilleras  from  this 
continent.  In  all  respects  but  one,  it  would  have  been  as 
reasonable  to  expect  to  raise  a  harvest  of  grain  from  the  bar- 
ren rock  of  Hydra,  as  to  found  a  free  and  prosperous  state  in 
this  abject  Turkish  province.  But  the  standard  of  liberty 
was  raised  on  the  soil  of  Greece  by  the  young  men  who 
returned  from  the  universities  of  Western  Europe,  and  the 
civilized  world  was  cheered  at  the  tidings.  It  was  the  birth- 
place of  the  arts,  the  cradle  of  letters.  Reasons  of  state  held 
back  the  governments  of  Europe  and  of  America  from  an 
interference  in  their  favor ;  but  intellectual  sympathy,  religious 
and  moral  feeling,  and  the  public  opinion  of  the  age,  rose  in 
their  might,  and  swept  all  the  barriers  of  state  logic  away. 
They  were  feeble,  unarmed,  without  organization,  distracted 
by  feuds ;  an  adamantine  wall  of  neutrality  on  the  west ;  an 
incensed  barbarian  empire,  horde  after  horde,  from  the  con- 
fines of  Anatolia  to  the  cataracts  of  the  Nile,  pouring  down 
upon  them  on  the  east.  Their  armies  and  their  navies  were 
a  mockery  of  military  power ;  their  resources  calculated  to 
inspire  rather  commiseration  than  fear.  But  their  spirits  were 
sustained,  and  their  wearied  hands  upheld,  by  the  benedic- 
tions and  the  succors  of  the  friends  of  freedom.  The  mem- 
ory of  their  great  men  of  old  went  before  them  to  battle,  and 
scattered  dismay  in  the  ranks  of  the  barbarous  foe,  as  he 
moved  with  uneasy  steps  over  the  burning  soil  of  freedom 


430  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

The  sympathy  of  all  considerate  and  humane  persons  wa» 
enlisted  in  behalf  of  the  posterity,  however  degenerate,  of 
those  who  had  taught  letters  and  humanity  to  the  world. 
Men  could  not  bear  with  patience  that  Christian  people,  strik- 
ing for  liberty,  should  be  trampled  down  by  barbarian  infidels, 
on  the  soil  of  Attica  and  Sparta.  The  public  opinion  of  the 
world  was  enlisted  on  their  side  ;  and  Liberty  herself,  person- 
ified, seemed  touched  with  compassion  as  she  heard  the  cry 
of  her  venerated  parent,  the  guardian  genius  of  Greece.  She 
hastened  to  realize  the  holy  legend  of  the  Roman  daughter, 
and  send  back  from  her  pure  bosom  the  tide  of  life  to  the 
wasting  form  of  her  parent :  — 

"  The  milk  of  his  own  gift ;  —  it  is  her  sire 
To  whom  she  renders  back  the  debt  of  blood, 
Born  with  her  birth ;  —  no,  he  shall  not  expire." 

Greece  did  not  expire.  The  sons  of  Greece  caught  new  life 
from  desperation ;  the  plague  of  the  Turkish  arms  was 
stayed ;  till  the  governments  followed  where  the  people  had 
led  the  way,  and  the  war,  which  was  sustained  by  the  literary 
and  religious  sympathies  of  the  friends  of  art  and  science, 
was  brought  to  a  triumphant  close  by  the  armies  and  navies 
of  Europe :  and  there  they  now  stand,  the  first  great  recon- 
quest  of  modern  civilization. 

Some,  I  doubt  not,  who  hear  me,  have  had  the  pleasure, 
within  a  few  weeks,  of  receiving  a  Greek  oration,  pronounced 
in  the  temple  of  Theseus,  on  the  reception,  at  Athens,  of  the 
first  official  act  of  the  young  Christian  prince,  under  whom 
the  government  of  this  interesting  country  is  organized. 
What  contemplations  does  it  not  awaken,  to  behold  a  youth- 
ful Bavarian  prince  deputed  by  the  great  powers  of  Europe 
to  go,  with  the  guaranties  of  letters,  religion,  and  the  arts,  to 
the  city  of  Minerva,  which  had  reached  the  summit  of  human 
civilization,  ages  before  Bavaria  had  emerged  from  the  depths 
of  the  Black  Forest !  One  can  almost  imagine  the  shades  of 
the  great  of  other  days,  the  patriots  and  warriors,  the  philos- 
ophers and  poets,  the  historians  and  orators,  rising  from  their 
renowned  graves,  to  greet  the  herald  of  their  country's 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  431 

restoration.  One  can  almost  fancy  that  the  sacred  dust  of 
the  Ceramicus  must  kindle  into  life  as  he  draws  near ;  that 
the  sides  of  Delphi  and  Parnassus,  and  the  banks  of  the  Ilis- 
sus,  must  swarm  with  the  returning  spirits  of  ancient  times. 
Yes !  Marathon  and  Thermopylae  are  moved  to  meet  him  at 
his  coming.  Martyrs  of  liberty,  names  that  shall  never  die, 
—  Solon  and  Pericles,  Socrates  and  Phocion,  not  now  with 
their  cups  of  hemlock  in  their  hands,  but  with  the  deep  lines 
of  their  living  cares  effaced  from  their  serene  brows,  —  at  the 
head  of  that  glorious  company  of  poets,  sages,  artists,  and 
heroes,  which  the  world  has  never  equalled,  descend  the 
famous  road  from  the  Acropolis  to  the  sea,  to  bid  the  deliv- 
erer welcome  to  the  land  of  glory  and  the  arts.  "  Remem- 
ber," they  cry,  "  O  prince  !  the  land  thou  art  set  to  rule  ;  it 
is  the  soil  of  freedom.  Remember  the  great  and  wise  of  old, 
in  whose  place  thou  art  called  to  stand,  —  the  fathers  of  lib- 
erty ;  remember  the  precious  blood  which  has  wet  these 
sacred  fields ;  pity  the  bleeding  remnants  of  what  was  once 
so  grand  and  fair  ;  respect  these  time-worn  and  venerable 
ruins  ;  raise  up  the  fallen  columns  of  these  beautiful  fanes, 
and  consecrate  them  to  the  Heavenly  Wisdom ;  restore  the 
banished  Muses  to  their  native  seat ;  be  the  happy  instrument, 
in  the  hand  of  Heaven,  of  enthroning  letters,  and  liberty,  and 
religion,  on  the  summits  of  our  ancient  hills ;  and  pay  back 
the  debt  of  the  civilized  world  to  reviving,  regenerated 
Greece.  So  shall  the  blessing  of  those  ready  to  perish  come 
upon  thee,  and  ages  after  the  vulgar  train  of  conquerors  and 
princes  is  forgotten,  thou  shalt  be  remembered  as  the  youth- 
ful restorer  of  Greece  !  " 

This  is  a  most  important  step  in  the  extension  of  civiliza- 
tion ;  what  is  to  hinder  its  further  rapid  progress,  I  own  I  do 
not  perceive.  On  the  contrary,  it  seems  to  me  that  political 
causes  are  in  operation,  destined  at  no  very  distant  period  to 
ihrow  open  the  whole  domain  of  ancient  improvement  to  the 
great  modern  instruments  of  national  education  —  the  press, 
free  government,  and  the  Christian  faith.  The  Ottoman 
power  —  a  government  which,  till  lately,  has  shown  itself 
hostile  to  all  improvement  —  is  already  dislodged  from  its 


432  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

main  positions  in  Europe,  and  may  before  long  be  removed 
from  that  which  it  still  retains.  The  Turk,  who,  four  centu- 
ries ago,  threatened  Italy,  and,  long  since  that  period,  carried 
terror  to  the  gates  of  Vienna,  will  soon  find  it  no  easy  matter 
to  sustain  himself  in  Constantinople.  His  empire  is  already, 
as  it  were,  encircled  by  that  of  Russia,  a  government  despotic 
indeed,  but  belonging  to  the  school  of  European  civilization, 
acknowledging  the  same  law  of  nations,  connected  with  the 
intellectual  family  of  Western  Europe  and  America,  and  mak- 
ing most  rapid  advances  in  the  education  of  the  various  races 
which  fill  her  vast  domain.  It  is  true  that  prejudices  exist 
against  that  government,  at  the  present  time,  in  the  minds  of 
the  friends  of  liberal  institutions.  But  let  it  not  be  forgotten 
that,  within  the  last  century,  as  great  a  work  of  improvement 
has  been  carried  on  in  the  Russian  empire,  as  was  ever 
accomplished,  in  an  equal  period,  in  the  history  of  man ;  and 
that  it  is  doubtful  whether,  in  any  other  way  than  through 
the  medium  of  such  a  government,  civilization  could  be 
made  to  penetrate  to  a  tenth  part  of  the  heterogeneous  mate- 
rials of  which  that  empire  is  composed. 

It  is  quite  within  the  range  of  political  probability,  that 
the  extended  dominion  of  the  czar  will  be  the  immediate 
agent  of  regenerating  Western  Asia.  If  so,  I  care  not  how 
soon  the  Russian  banner  is  planted  on  the  walls  of  Constanti- 
nople. No  man  can  suppose  that  an  instantaneous  transition 
can  be  made,  in  Asiatic  Turkey,  from  the  present  condition 
of  those  regions  to  one  of  republican  liberty.  The  process 
must  be  gradual,  and  may  be  slow.  If  the  Russian  power 
be  extended  over  them,  it  will  be  a  civilized  and  a  Christian 
sway.  Letters,  law,  and  religion  will  follow  in  the  train  ; 
and  the  foundation  will  be  laid  for  further  progress,  in  the 
advancing  intelligence  of  the  people. 

On  the  African  coast,  the  great  centre  of  barbarism  has 
fallen  ;  and  the  opportunity  seems  to  present  itself  of  bring- 
ing much  of  that  interesting  region  within  the  pale  of  civili- 
zation,'under  the  auspices  of  one  of  the  politest  nations  in 
Europe.  The  man,  who,  but  fifteen  years  ago,  should  have 
predicted,  that,  within  so  short  a  period  of  time,  Greece  would 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  433 

be  united  into  an  independent  state,  under  a  European  prince ; 
that  a  Russian  alliance  should  be  sought,  to  sustain  the  totter- 
ing power  of  the  Ottoman  Porte  ;  that  Algiers,  which  had  so 
long  bid  defiance  to  Christendom,  would  be  subjected ;  that 
a  flourishing  colony  of  the  descendants  of  Africa  should  be 
planted  on  its  western  coast ;  and  that  the  mystery  of  the 
Niger  would  be  solved,  and  steamboats  be  found  upon  its 
waters,  —  would  have  been  deemed  a  wild  enthusiast.  And 
now,  when  we  reflect,  that,  at  so  many  different  points,  the 
power  of  modern  civilization  is  turned  upon  Western  Asia  and 
Africa ;  that  our  printing  presses,  benevolent  institutions, 
missionary  associations,  and  governments,  are  exerting  their 
energies  to  push  the  empire  of  improvement  into  the  waste 
places  ;  when  we  consider  that  the  generation  coming  forward 
in  these  regions  will  live  under  new  influences,  and,  instead 
of  the  Mussulman  barbarism,  repressing  every  movement 
towards  liberty  and  refinement,  that  the  influence  and  interest 
of  the  leading  powers  of  Europe  will  be  exerted  to  promote 
the  great  end,  —  is  it  too  sanguine  to  think  that  a  grand  and 
most  extensive  work  of  national  education  is  begun,  not 
destined  to  stand  still,  or  go  backward  ?  Go  backward,  did  I 
say  ?  What  is  to  hinder  its  indefinite  progress  ?  Why  should 
these  regions  be  doomed  to  perpetual  barbarity  ?  Hitherto, 
they  have  been  kept  barbarous  by  the  influence  of  anti- 
Christian,  despotic,  illiterate  governments.  At  present,  vast 
regions,  both  of  Eastern  and  Western  Asia,  and  portions  of 
Africa,  on  the  Mediterranean  and  Atlantic  coasts,  are  under 
the  protection  of  enlightened,  civilized,  and  Christian  govern- 
ments, whose  interest  and  character  are  alike  pledged  to 
promote  the  improvement  of  their  subjects.  Why  should 
they  not  improve,  and  improve  with  rapidity  ?  They  occupy 
a  soil  which  once  bore  an  intelligent  population.  They 
breathe  a  climate  beneath  which  the  arts  and  letters  once 
flourished.  They  inhabit  the  coasts  of  that  renowned  sea, 
whose  opposite  shores,  of  old,  seemed  to  respond  to  each 
other,  in  grand  intellectual  concert,  like  the  emulous  choirs 
of  some  mighty  cathedral.  They  are  still  inhabited  by 
men,  —  rational,  immortal  men,  —  men  of  no  mean  descent, 
VOL.  i.  55 


134  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

whose  progenitors  enrolled  their  names  high  on  the  lists  of 
renown. 

For  myself,  I  see  nothing  to  put  this  great  work  beyond 
hope.  The  causes  are  adequate  to  its  achievement,  the  times 
are  propitious,  the  indications  are  significant  ;  and  the  work 
to  be  done,  though  great,  indeed,  is  not,  in  itself,  chimerical  or 
extravagant.  What  is  it  ?  To  teach  those  who  have  eyes  to 
sec  ;  to  pour  instruction  into  ears  open  to  receive  it ;  to  aid 
rational  minds  to  think  ;  to  kindle  immortal  souls  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  their  faculties  ;  to  cooperate  with  the  strong 
and  irrepressible  tendency  of  our  natures  ;  to  raise  out  of 
barbarity  and  stupidity  men  who  belong  to  the  same  race  of 
beings  as  Newton  and  Locke,  as  Shakspeare  and  Milton,  as 
Franklin  and  Washington.  Let  others  doubt  the  possibility 
of  doing  it ;  I  cannot  conceive  the  possibility  of  its  remaining 
eventually  undone.  The  difficulty  of  civilizing  Asia  and 
Africa  ?  I  am  more  struck  with  the  difficulty  of  keeping 
them  barbarous.  When  I  think  what  man  is,  in  his  powers 
and  improvable  capacities  ;  when  I  reflect  on  the  principles 
of  education,  as  I  have  already  attempted,  in  this  address,  to 
develop  them,  —  my  wonder  is  at  the  condition  to  which 
man  is  sunk,  and  with  which  he  is  content,  and  not  at  any 
project  or  prophecy  of  his  elevation. 

On  the  contrary,  I  see  a  thousand  causes  at  work  to  hasten 
the  civilization  of  the  world.  I  see  the  interest  of  the  com- 
mercial nations  enlisted  in  the  cause  of  humanity  and  reli- 
gion. I  see  refinement,  and  the  arts,  and  Christianity,  borne 
on  the  white  wings  of  trade  to  the  farthest  shores,  and  pen- 
etrating, by  mysterious  rivers,  the  hidden  recesses  of  mighty 
continents.  I  behold  a  private  company,  beginning  with 
commercial  adventure,  ending  in  a  mighty  association  of 
merchant  princes,  and  extending  a  government  of  Christian 
men  over  a  hundred  millions  of  benighted  heathens  in  the 
barbarous  East ;  and  thus  opening  a  direct  channel  of  com- 
munication between  the  very  centre  of  European  civiliza- 
tion and  the  heart  of  India.  I  see  the  ambition  of  extended 
sway  carrying  the  eagles  of  a  prosperous  empire,  and  with 
them  the  fruitful  rudiments  of  a  civilized  rule,  over  the  feeble 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  435 

provinces  of  a  neighboring  despotism.  I  see  the  great  work 
of  African  colonization  auspiciously  commenced,  promising 
no  scanty  indemnity  for  the  cruel  wrongs  which  that  much- 
injured  continent  has  endured  from  the  civilized  world,  and 
sending  home  to  the  shores  of  their  fathers  an  intelligent, 
well-educated  colored  population,  going  back  with  all  the 
arts  of  life  to  this  long-oppressed  land ;  and  I  can  see  the 
soldiers  of  the  cross  beneath  the  missionary  banner,  penetrat- 
ing the  most  inaccessible  regions,  reaching  the  most  distant 
islands,  and  achieving,  in  a  few  years,  a  work  of  moral  and 
spiritual  education,  for  which  centuries  might  have  seemed 
too  short.  When  I  behold  all  these  active  causes,  backed  by 
all  the  power  of  public  sentiment,  Christian  benevolence,  the 
social  principle,  and  the  very  spirit  of  the  age,  I  can  believe 
almost  any  thing  of  hope  and  promise.  I  can  believe  every 
thing,  sooner  than  that  all  this  mighty  moral  enginery  can 
remain  powerless  and  ineffectual.  It  is  against  the  law  of 
our  natures,  fallen  though  they  be,  which  tend  not  down- 
wards, but  upwards.  To  those  who  doubt  the  eventual 
regeneration  of  mankind  I  would  say,  in  the  language  which 
the  wise  and  pious  poet  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  fallen 
angel,  — 

"Let  such  bethink  them, 
That,  in  our  proper  motion,  we  ascend 
Up  to  our  native  seat.     Descent  and  fall 
To  us  are  adverse." 

Let  him  who  is  inclined  to  distrust  the  efficiency  of  the 
social  and  moral  causes  which  are  quietly  at  work  for 
the  improvement  of  the  nations,  reflect  on  the  phenomena 
of  the  natural  world.  Whence  come  the  waters  which  swell 
the  vast  currents  of  the  great  rivers,  and  fill  up  the  gulfs  of 
the  bottomless  deep  ?  Have  they  not  all  gone  up  to  the 
clouds,  in  a  most  thin  and  unseen  vapor,  from  the  wide  sur- 
face of  land  and  sea?  Have  not  these  future  billows,  on 
which  navies  are  soon  to  be  tossed,  in  which  the  great  mon- 
sters of  the  deep  will  disport  themselves,  been  borne  aloft  on 
the  bosom  of  a  ^eecy  cloud,  chased  by  a  breeze,  with  scarce 


436  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

enough  of  substance  to  catch  the  hues  of  a  sunbeam?  and 
have  they  not  descended,  sometimes,  indeed,  in  drenching 
rains,  but  far  more  diffusively  in  dew-drops,  and  gentle 
showers,  and  feathery  snows,  over  the  expanse  of  a  conti- 
nent, and  been  gathered  successively  into  the  slender  rill, 
the  brook,  the  placid  stream,  till  they  grew,  at  last,  into  the 
mighty  river,  pouring  down  his  tributary  floods  into  the 
unfathomed  ocean  ? 

Yes !  let  him  who  wishes  to  understand  the  power  of  the 
principles  at  work  for  the  improvement  of  our  race,  —  if  he 
cannot  comprehend  their  vigor  in  the  schools  of  learning ;  if 
he  cannot  see  the  promise  of  their  efficiency  in  the  very 
character  of  the  human  mind ;  if  in  the  page  of  history, 
sacred  and  profane,  checkered  with  vicissitude  as  it  is,  he 
cannot,  nevertheless,  behold  the  clear  indications  of  a  pro- 
gressive nature, — -let  him  accompany  the  missionary  bark  to 
the  Sandwich  Islands.  He  will  there  behold  a  people,  sunk, 
till  within  fifteen  years,  in  the  depths  of  savage  and  of 
heathen  barbarity ;  indebted  to  the  intercourse  of  the  civil- 
ized world  for  nothing  but  wasting  diseases  and  degrading 
vices ;  placed  by  Providence  in  a  garden  of  fertility  and 
plenty,  but,  by  revolting  systems  of  tyranny  and  supersti- 
tion, kept  in  a  state  of  want,  corruption,  war,  and  misery. 
The  Christian  benevolence  of  a  private  American  association 
casts  its  eyes  upon  them.  Three  or  four  individuals  —  with- 
out power,  without  arms,  without  funds,  except  such  as  the 
frugal  resources  of  private  benevolence  could  furnish  them ; 
strong  only  in  pious  resolutions,  and  the  strength  of  a  right- 
eous cause  —  land  on  these  remote  islands,  and  commence 
the  task  of  moral  and  spiritual  reform.  If  ever  there  was  a 
chimerical  project,  in  the  eyes  of  worldly  wisdom,  this  was 
one.  If  this  enterprise  is  feasible,  tell  me  what  is  not ! 
Within  less  than  half  the  time  usually  assigned  to  a  genera- 
tion of  men,  sixty  thousands  of  individuals,  in  a  population 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  have  been  taught  the 
elements  of  human  learning.  Whole  tribes  of  savages  have 
demolished  their  idols,  abandoned  their  ancient  superstitious 
and  barbarous  laws,  and  adopted  some  of  the  best  institutions 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  437 

of  civilization  and  Christianity.  It  would,  I  think,  be  diffi- 
cult to  find,  in  the  pages  of  history,  the  record  of  a  moral 
improvement,  of  equal  extent,  effected  in  a  space  of  time  so 
inconsiderable,  and  furnishing  so  striking  an  exemplification 
of  the  power  of  the  means  at  work,  at  the  present  day,  for 
the  education  and  improvement  of  jnan. 

If  I  mistake  not,  we  behold,  in  the  British  empire  in  the 
East,  another  most  auspicious  agency  for  the  extension  of 
moral  influences  over  that  vast  region.  It  is  true,  that,  hith- 
erto, commercial  profit  and  territorial  aggrandizement  have 
seemed  to  be  the  only  objects  which  have  been  pursued  by 
the  government.  But  when  we  look  at  home,  at  the  charac- 
ter of  the  British  people,  an  enlightened,  benevolent,  and 
liberal  community ;  when  we  consider  the  power  of  the 
press,  and  the  force  of  public  sentiment  in  that  country,  and 
the  disposition  to  grapple  with  the  most  arduous  questions 
evinced  by  its  rulers,  —  we  may  hope,  without  extravagance, 
that  a  glorious  day  of  improvement  is  destined  to  dawn  on 
India,  under  the  patronage  and  auspices  of  Great  Britain. 
The  thoughts  of  her  public-spirited  and  benevolent  men 
have  long  been  bent  on  this  great  object.  Some  of  the  finest 
minds  that  have  adorned  our  nature  have  labored  in  this 
field.  I  need  not  recall  to  you  the  boundless  learning,  the 
taste,  and  the  eloquence  of  Sir  William  Jones ;  nor  the  clas- 
sical elegance,  the  ardent  philanthropy,  the  religious  self- 
devotion  of  Heber ;  nor  repeat  a  long  list  of  distinguished 
names,  who,  for  fifty  years,  have  labored  for  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge  in  the  East.  Nor  labored  in  vain.  Cheering 
indications  are  given,  in  various  quarters,  of  a  great  moral 
change  in  the  condition  of  these,  vast  and  interesting  regions, 
once  the  abode  of  philosophy  and  the  arts.  The  bloodiest 
and  most  revolting  of  the  superstitions  of  the  Hindoo  pagan- 
ism has  been  suppressed  by  the  British  government.  The 
widow  is  no  longer  compelled,  by  a .  despotic  fanaticism,  to 
sacrifice  herself  on  the  funeral  pile  of  her  husband.  The 
whole  system  of  the  castes  is  barely  tolerated  by  the  govern- 
ment ;  and,  being  at  war  with  the  fundamental  principles  of 
the  British  law,  as  it  is  with  the  interest  of  the  greatest  part 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND. 

of  the  population,  must,  at  no  distant  period,  crumble  away. 
The  consolidation  of  the  British  empire  in  India  promises  a 
respite  from  the  wars  hitherto  perpetually  raging  among  the 
native  states  of  that  country,  and  forming,  of  themselves,  an 
effectual  barrier  to  every  advance  out  of  barbarism.  The 
field  seems  now  open  to  genial  influences.  It  is  impossible 
to  repress  the  hope,  that,  out  of  the  deep  and  living  foun- 
tains of  benevolence,  in  the  land  of  our  fathers,  a  broad  and 
fertilizing  current  will  be  poured  over  the  thirsty  plains  of 
India, — the  abodes  of  great  geniuses  in  the  morning  of  the 
world  ;  and  that  letters,  arts,  and  religion  will  be  extended  to 
a  hundred  millions  of  these  mild  and  oppressed  fellow- 
beings. 

But  it  is  time  to  relieve  your  patience.  I  will  do  it,  after 
a  reflection  on  the  relation  which  this  country  bears  to  the 
work  of  general  education ;  and  all  I  wish  to  say  will  be 
comprised  in  one  word  of  encouragement,  and  one  of 
warning. 

The  recent  agitations  of  the  country  have  a  bearing  on  the 
great  moral  questions  we  have  been  discussing,  more  impor- 
tant, as  it  seems  to  me,  than  their  immediate  political  aspect. 
In  its  present  united  condition,  —  that  of  a  state  already  large 
and  powerful,  and  rapidly  increasing  ;  its  population  more 
generally  well  educated  than  that  of  any  other  country,  and 
imbued  with  an  unusual  spirit  of  personal,  social,  and  moral 
enterprise,  —  it  presents,  in  itself,  the  most  effective  organiza- 
tion imaginable,  for  the  extension  of  the  domain  of  improve- 
ment, at  home  and  abroad.  The  vital  principle  of  this 
organization  is  the  union  of  its  members.  In  this  they  enjoy 
an  exemption  from  the  heavy  burden  of  great  local  establish- 
ments of  government,  and,  still  more,  from  the  curse  of 
neighboring  states  —  eternal  border  war.  In  virtue  of  this 
principle,  they  are  enabled  to  devote  all  their  energies,  in 
peace  and  tranquillity,  to  the  cultivation  of  the  arts  of  private 
life,  and  the  pursuit  of  every  great  work  of  public  utility, 
benevolence,  and  improvement.  To  attack  the  principle  of 
union,  is  to  attack  the  prosperity  of  the  whole  and  of  every 
part  of  the  country  ;  it  is  to  check  the  outward  development 


EDUCATION  OF  MANKIND.          439 

of  our  national  activity ;  to  turn  our  resources  and  energies, 
now  exerted  in  every  conceivable  manner  for  public  and 
private  benefit,  into  new  channels  of  mutual  injury  and  ruin. 
Instead  of  roads  and  canals  to  unite  distant  states,  the  hill 
tops  of  those  which  adjoin  each  other  would  be  crowned  with 
fortresses ;  and  our  means  would  be  strained  to  the  utmost  in 
the  support  of  as  many  armies  and  navies  as  there  were  rival 
sovereignties.  Nor  would  the  evil  rest  with  the  waste  of 
treasure.  The  thoughts  and  feelings  of  men  would  assume 
a  new  direction ;  and  military  renown,  and  rank,  plunder,  and 
revenge,  be  the  ruling  principles  of  the  day.  Destroy  the 
union  of  the  states,  and  you  destroy  their  character,  change 
their  occupations,  blast  their  prospects.  You  shut  the  annals 
of  the  republic,  and  open  the  book  of  kings.  You  shut  the 
book  of  peace,  and  open  the  book  of  war.  You  unbar  the 
gates  of  hell  to  the  legions  of  civil  discord,  ambition,  havoc, 
and  ruin  ! 

Let  these  considerations  never  be  absent  from  our  minds. 
But,  if  the  question  is  asked,  What  encouragement  is  there 
that  a  vast  deal  can  be  done,  in  a  short  time,  for  the  improve- 
ment of  man  ?  I  would  say  to  him  who  puts  the  question, 
Look  around  you.  In  what  country  do  you  live  ?  Under 
what  state  of  things  has  it  grown  up  ?  Do  you  bear  in  mind, 
that,  in  a  space  of  time  one  half  of  which  has  been  covered 
by  the  lives  of  some  yet  in  existence,  in  two  hundred  years, 
these  wide-spread  settlements,  with  so  many  millions  of 
inhabitants,  abounding  in  all  the  blessings  of  life,  more  lib- 
erally and  equally  bestowed  than  in  any  other  country,  have 
been  built  up  in  a  remote  and  savage  wilderness  ?  Do  you 
recollect  that  it  is  not  half  a  century,  since,  with  a  population 
comparatively  insignificant,  she  vindicated  her  independence, 
in  a  war  against  the  oldest  and  strongest  government  on 
earth  ?  Do  you  consider  that  the  foundations  of  these  power- 
ful and  prosperous  states  were  laid  by  a  few  persecuted  and 
aggrieved  private  citizens,  of  moderate  fortune,  unsupported, 
scarcely  tolerated,  by  the  government  ?  If  you  will  go  back 
to  the  very  origin,  do  you  not  perceive,  that,  as  if  to  conse- 
crate this  country,  from  the  outset,  as  a  most  illustrious 


440  EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND." 

example  of  what  a  man  can  do,  it  was  owing  to  the  fixed 
impression  on  the  heart  of  one  friendless  mariner,  pursued 
through  long  years  of  fruitless  solicitation  and  fainting  hope, 
that  these  vast  American  continents  are  made  a  part  of  the 
heritage  of  civilized  men  ?  Look  around  you  again  at  the 
institutions  which  are  the  pride  and  blessing  of  the  country. 
See  our  entire  religious  establishments,  unendowed  by  the 
state,  supported  by  the  united  efforts  of  the  individual  citi- 
zens. See  the  great  literary  institutions  of  our  country, 
especially  those  in  New  England,  —  Dartmouth,  Williams, 
Bowdoin,  Brown,  Amherst,  and  others,  —  founded  by  the 
liberality  of  citizens  of  moderate  fortune,  or  by  the  small, 
combined  contributions  of  public-spirited  benefactors,  aided, 
at  the  most,  by  moderate  endowments  from  the  public  treas- 
ury ;  and  "  the  two  twins  of  learning,"  if  I  may,  without 
arrogance,  name  them  apart  from  the  rest ;  this  most  efficient 
and  respected  seminary,  within  whose  walls  we  are  now  con- 
vened, and  my  own  ancient  and  beloved  Harvard  ;  to  whom, 
and  what,  do  they  trace  their  origin  ?  Yale,  to  the  ten 
worthy  fathers  who  assembled  at  Branford  in  1700,  and, 
laying  each  a  few  volumes  on  the  table,  said,  "  I  give  these 
books  for  the  founding  of  a  college  in  this  colony  ;  "  and 
Harvard,  to  the  dying  munificence  of  an  humble  minister  of 
the  gospel,  who  landed  on  the  shores  of  America  but  to  lay 
his  dust  in  its  soil ;  but  who  did  not  finish  his  brief  sojourn 
till  he  had  accomplished  a  work  of  usefulness,  which,  we 
trust,  will  never  die.  Whence  originated  the  great  reform  in 
our  prisons,  which  has  accomplished  its  wonders  of  philan- 
thropy and  mercy  in  the  short  space  of  eight  years,  and  made 
the  penitentiaries  of  America  the  model  of  the  penal  institu- 
tions of  the  world  ?  It  had  its  origin  in  the  visit  of  a  mis- 
sionary, with  his  Bible,  to  the  convict's  cell.  Whence  sprang 
the  mighty  temperance  reform,  which  has  already  done  so 
much  to  wipe  off  a  great  blot  from  the  character  of  the 
country  ?  It  was  commenced  on  so  small  a  scale,  that  it  is 
not  easy  to  assign  its  effective  origin  to  a  precise  source.  And 
counsels  and  efforts,  as  humble  and  inconsiderable  at  the  out- 
set, gave  the  impulse  to  the  missionary  cause  of  modern  times, 


EDUCATION    OF    MANKIND.  441 

which,  going  forth  with  its  devoted  champions,  conquering 
and  to  conquer,  beneath 

— "  the  great  ensign  of  Messiah,  — 


Aloft  by  angels  borne,  their  sign  in  heaven," 

has  already  gained  a  peaceful  triumph  over  the  farthest 
islands,  and  added  a  new  kingdom  to  the  realms  of  civiliza- 
tion and  Christianity. 

VOL.  i.  56 


AGRICULTURE.* 


IT  is  generally  admitted,  that  since  the  establishment  of 
cuttle  shows  in  this  country,  the  condition  of  our  agriculture 
has  been  manifestly  improved.  Before  that  time,  our  hus- 
bandmen seemed  to  want  those  means  of  improvement,  and 
encouragements  to  action,  which  are  enjoyed  by  their  fellow- 
citizens  engaged  in  several  other  pursuits.  Instead  of  living 
together  in  large  towns,  they  are  scattered  over  the  surface 
of  the  country.  Instead  of  having  two  thirds  of  every  news- 
paper filled  with  advertisements  or  information  relative  to  their 
occupation,  —  as  is  the  case  with  the  merchants,  —  the  most 
they  could  promise  themselves  was,  that  the  weight  of  an 
enormous  vegetable  should  be  faithfully  recorded ;  and  the 
memory  of  some  calf  with  two  heads  or  six  legs  be  handed 
to  posterity.  They  held  no  conventions  and  assemblies,  like 
the  clergy  and  physicians ;  were  not  brought  together,  like 
the  lawyers,  at  the  periodical  terms  of  court,  to  take  counsel 
with  each  other  for  the  public  good ;  and  seemed  not  to  pos- 
sess, in  any  way,  the  means  of  a  rapid  comparison  and  inter- 
change of  opinion  and  feeling. 

Since  the  establishment  of  the  cattle  show  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Agricultural  Society,  and  those  of  the  several  county 
societies,  this  state  of  things  has  been  greatly  amended ;  and 
to  a  considerable  degree,  I  imagine,  through  the  agency  of 
these  institutions.  The  cultivators  of  the  soil  are  now 
brought  together.  Their  agricultural  improvements,  their 
superior  animals,  their  implements  of  husbandry,  the  products 

*  Address  delivered  at  Brighton,  before  the  Massachusetts  Agricultu- 
ral Society,  16th  October,  1833. 

(442) 


AGRICULTOBE.  443 

ot  their  farms,  their  methods  of  cultivation,  are  all  subjects 
of  inquiry,  comparison,  and  excitement.  The  premiums 
proposed  have  given  a  spring  to  the  enterprise  of  the  cultiva- 
tors ;  not  on  account  of  the  trifling  pecuniary  reward  which 
is  held  out,  but  through  the  influence  of  a  generous  spirit  of 
emulation.  The  agricultural  magazines  and  newspapers  take 
up  the  matter  in  this  stage,  and  give  all  desirable  notoriety 
to  what  is  done  and  doing.  The  knowledge  of  every  im- 
provement is  widely  diffused.  Increased  prosperity  begins 
to  show  itself,  as  the  reward  of  increased  skill  and  knowl- 
edge ;  and  thus  the  condition  of  the  husbandman  is  rendered 
more  comfortable  and  more  honorable. 

A  word  of  exhortation  has  become,  by  usage,  a  part  of  the 
ceremonial  on  these  occasions ;  and  it  has  been  thought  not 
unseasonable,  that  the  husbandmen's  festival  should  afford 
some  brief  opportunity  for  the  expression  of  opinions  on 
important  interests  connected  with  their  pursuits,  and  for  the 
inculcation  of  the  sentiments  which  belong  to  the  vocation, 
standing,  and  usefulness  of  the  farmer.  But  you  have  just  left 
the  exhibition  grounds,  where  you  have  been  eye-witnesses 
of  the  dexterity  of  our  ploughmen  ;  where  you  have  admired 
the  display  of  the  strength  and  docility  of  the  well-trained 
draught  cattle  ;  where  you  have  examined  the  animals  brought 
forward  as  specimens  of  the  improvement  of  their  various 
races.  You  have  not,  of  course,  retired  from  this  animated 
and  interesting  scene,  —  thronged  as  it  is  by  the  assembled 
yeomanry  of  the  commonwealth,  the  living  masters  of  the 
great  art  of  agriculture,  —  to  come  together  here  with  the 
view  of  gaining  additional  knowledge  of  matters  of  practical 
husbandry.  This,  I  am  well  persuaded,  at  all  events,  is  not 
expected  from  me,  and  I  shall  have  fulfilled  the  object  for 
which  I  have  been  invited  to  appear  before  you  on  this  occa- 
sion, if  I  shall  succeed,  in  any  degree,  in  bringing  home  to 
the  minds  of  those  whom  I  have  the  honor  to  address,  the 
importance  and  respectability  of  the  occupation  of  the  farmer, 
and  especially  in  this  country. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  let  us  say  a  word  of  the  importance 
of  the  pursuit  of  the  husbandman.  What  rank  does  agricul- 


444  AGRICULTURE. 

ture  hold,  in  the  scale  of  usefulness  among  the  pursuits  of 
men  in  civilized  communities  ?  We  shall  arrive  at  a  practical 
answer  to  this  question,  by  considering  that  it  is  agriculture 
which  spreads  the  great  and  bountiful  table,  at  which  the 
mighty  family  of  civilized  man  receives  its  daily  bread. 
Something  is  yielded  by  the  chase,  and  much  more  by  the 
fisheries  ;  but  the  produce  of  the  soil  constitutes  the  great 
mass  of  the  food  of  a  civilized  community,  either  directly  in 
its  native  state,  or  through  the  medium  of  the  animals  fed  by 
it,  which  become,  in  their  turn,  the  food  of  man.  In  like 
manner,  agriculture  furnishes  the  material  for  our  clothing. 
Wool,  cotton,  flax,  silk,  leather,  are  the  materials  of  which 
nearly  all  our  clothing  is  composed ;  and  these  are  furnished 
by  agriculture.  In  producing  the  various  articles  of  clothing, 
the  manufacturing  arts  are  largely  concerned,  and  commerce, 
in  the  exchange  of  raw  materials  and  fabrics.  These,  there- 
fore, to  a  considerable  degree,  rest  on  agriculture  as  their  ulti- 
mate foundation ;  especially  as  it  feeds  all  the  other  branches 
of  industry. 

If  we  suppose  the  population  of  this  state  to  consume  in 
food  and  clothing,  on  an  average,  half  a  dollar  a  week  each, 
it  will  give  nearly  fifty-two  millions  of  agricultural  produce 
consumed  in  Massachusetts  in  a  year.  In  addition  to  this,  is 
all  that  is  consumed  by  the  domestic  animals,  and  all  that  is 
raised  and  not  consumed,  but  exported,  or  otherwise  given  in 
exchange  for  articles  of  value,  which  are  preserved  and  accu- 
mulated. 

Agriculture  seems  to  be  the  first  pursuit  of  civilized  man. 
It  enables  him  to  escape  from  the  life  of  the  savage,  and 
the  wandering  shepherd,  into  that  of  social  man,  gathered 
into  fixed  communities,  and  surrounding  himself  with  the 
comforts  and  blessings  of  neighborhood,  country,  and  home. 
The  savage  lives  by  the  chase  —  a  precarious  and  wretched 
independence.  The  Arab  and  the  Tartar  roam  with  their 
flocks  and  herds  over  a  vast  region,  destitute  of  all  those 
refinements  which  require  for  their  growth  a  permanent  resi- 
dence, and  a  community  organized  into  the  various  profes- 
sions, arts,  and  trades.  They  are  found  now,  after  a  lapse  of 


AGRICULTURE.  445 

four  thousand  years,  precisely  in  the  same  condition  in  which 
they  existed  in  the  days  of  Abraham.  It  is  agriculture  alone 
that  fixes  men  in  stationary  dwellings,  in  villages,  towns,  and 
cities,  and  enables  the  work  of  civilization,  in  all  its  branches 
to  go  on. 

Agriculture  was  held  in  honorable  estimation  by  the  most 
enlightened  nations  of  antiquity.  In  the  infancy  of  com- 
merce and  manufactures,  its  relative  rank  among  the  occupa- 
tions of  men  was  necessarily  higher  than  now.  The  patri- 
archs of  the  ancient  Scripture  times  cultivated  the  soil. 
Abraham  was  very  rich  in  cattle,  in  gold,  and  in  silver.  Job 
farmed  on  a  very  large  scale ;  he  had  seven  thousand  sheep, 
three  thousand  camels,  five  hundred  yoke  of  oxen,  and  five 
hundred  she-asses.  In  Greece,  the  various  improvements  in 
husbandry,  the  introduction  of  the  nutritive  grains,  and  the 
invention  of  convenient  instruments  for  tilling  the  soil,  were 
regarded  as  the  immediate  bounties  of  the  gods.  At  a  later 
period,  land  was  almost  the  only  article  of  property ;  and 
those  who  cultivated  it,  if  they  were  freemen,  were  deemed 
a  more  respectable  class  than  manufacturers  and  mechanics, 
who  were  mostly  slaves.  Among  the  Romans,  agriculture 
was  still  more  respected  than  among  the  Greeks.  In  the  best 
and  purest  times  of  the  republic,  the  most  distinguished  citi- 
zens, the  proudest  patricians,  lived  on  their  farms,  and  labored 
with  their  own  hands.  Cato  the  Censor  was  both  a  practical 
and  scientific  farmer,  arid  wrote  a  treatise  on  the  art ;  —  and 
who  has  not  heard  of  Cincinnatus  ?  When  the  Sabines  had 
advanced  with  a  superior  army  to  the  walls  of  the  city,  the 
people,  although  at  that  period  greatly  disaffected  towards  the 
patricians,  demanded  that  Lucius  Quinctius  Cincinnatus,  one 
of  that  unpopular  class,  should  be  created  dictator ;  that  is, 
that  all  the  laws,  and  the  power  of  all  the  magistrates,  should 
be  suspended,  and  despotic  authority  vested  in  his  hands. 
Livy,  in  relating  the  occurrence,  cannot  help  breaking  out  in 
the  exclamation,  that  "  it  is  well  worth  the  attention  of 
those  who  despise  every  thing  on  earth  but  money,  and  think 
that  there  is  no  place  for  honor  or  virtue  except  where  wealth 
abounds.  The  sole  hope  of  the  Roman  empire,  (adds  he,) 


446  AGRICULTURE. 

in  this  the  day  of  her  extremity,  L.  Q,uinctius,  was  cultivating, 
at  this  time,  a  farm  beyond  the  Tiber,  which  still  bears  his 
name,  and  which  consisted  of  four  acres.  There  he  was 
found  by  the  messengers  who  were  sent  to  hail  him  as  dicta- 
tor, leaning  on  his  spade,  or  holding  his  plough.  After  hav- 
ing raised  an  army  and  defeated  the  enemy,  he  laid  down,  in 
sixteen  days,  the  dictatorship,  which  he  was  authorized  to 
hold  for  six  months,  and  on  the  seventeenth  day,  got  back 
to  his  farm."  * 

In  the  progress  of  wealth  and  luxury  in  the  Roman  empire, 
the  class  of  husbandmen  sunk  from  their  original  estimation. 
in  consequence  of  the  employment  of  vast  numbers  of  slaves 
on  the  estates  of  the  great  landholders.  Still,  however,  there 
was  a  large  and  respectable  class  of  rural  tenantry,  who  cul- 
tivated at  the  halves  the  lands  of  the  rich  proprietors ;  and 
the  free  and  independent  citizens  who  tilled  their  own  small 
farms,  like  the  great  men  of  better  days,  never  wholly  disap- 
peared till  the  overthrow  of  the  Roman  empire  by  the  inva- 
sion of  the  barbarous  tribes. 

On  the  destruction  of  the  Roman  empire,  the  feudal  system 
arose  in  Europe ;  a  singularly  complicated  plan  of  military 
despotism.  In  this  system,  the  possession  of  the  land  was 
made  the  basis  of  the  military  defence  of  the  country.  The 
king  was  the  ultimate  proprietor,  and  apportioned  the  ter- 
ritory among  the  great  lords,  his  retainers.  Those  who 
cultivated  the  soil  were  serfs,  the  property  of  their  lord,  and 
were  bought  and  sold  with  the  cattle  which  they  tended. 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  describing,  with  his  graphic  pen,  one  of 
this  class  of  the  former  population  of  England,  after  depict- 
ing the  other  peculiarities  of  his  costume,  adds  a  trait  which 
speaks  volumes  as  to  their  condition  —  "  One  part  of  his  dress 
only  remains,  but  it  is  too  remarkable  to  be  suppressed ;  it 
was  a  brass  ring,  resembling  a  dog's  collar,  but  without  any 
opening,  and  soldered  fast  round  his  neck ;  so  loose  as  to 
form  no  impediment  to  his  breathing ;  yet  so  tight  as  to  be 
incapable  of  being  removed,  excepting  by  the  use  of  the  file. 

»  Liv.  Lib.  III.  §  26. 


AGRICULTURE.  447 

On  this  singular  gorget  was  engraved,  in  Saxon  characters, 
1  Gurth,  the  son  of  Beowulph,  is  the  born  thrall  of  Cedric.'  " 
There  is  but  one  reflection  wanting,  to  give  us  the  full  con- 
ception of  the  degradation  of  the  peasantry  of  this  period, 
which  is.  that  these  "  born  thralls  "  were  the  original  rightful 
masters  of  the  soil,  subjected  to  foreign  conquerors. 

If  the  estimate  of  Dr  Lingard  can  be  trusted,  two  thirds 
of  the  population  of  England,  under  the  Anglo-Saxons,  were 
of  this  class.  They  were  either  the  native  race,  enslaved  by 
their  conquerors,  or  free-born  Anglo-Saxons,  reduced  to 
slavery  for  debt,  (a  crime  still  punished  by  imprisonment,) 
for  offences  against  the  laws,  or  by  a  voluntary  surrender  of 
their  liberty,  as  a  refuge  from  want.  Their  occupations  were, 
of  course,  as  various  as  the  wants  or  will  of  their  masters 
might  dictate  ;  but  their  persons,  families,  and  goods  of  every 
description,  were  the  property  of  their  lord.  He  could 
dispose  of  them  as  he  pleased,  by  gift  or  sale  ;  he  could  annex 
them  to  the  soil,  or  remove  them  from  it ;  he  could  transfer 
them  with  it  to  a  new  proprietor,  or  leave  them  by  will  to 
his  heirs.  Many  such  devises  are  still  on  record.  Even  the 
slave  trade  existed  in  all  its  horrors,  and  in  a  form  scarcely 
less  abominable  than  in  modern  times.  Slaves  were  sold 
openly  in  the  market,  during  the  whole  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
period,  and  it  is  supposed  that  the  value  of  a  slave  was  four- 
fold that  of  an  ox.  The  importation  of  foreign  slaves  was 
unrestrained,  but  the  exportation  of  natives  was  strictly  for- 
bidden. The  Northumbrians,  however,  in  their  eager  pursuit 
of  gain,  despised  the  prohibition,  and  are  said  to  have  carried 
off  not  merely  their  countrymen,  but  their  friends  and  rela- 
tives, and  sold  them  as  slaves  in  the  ports  of  the  continent. 
Bristol,  as  in  modern  times,  was  infamous  for  the  zeal  with 
which  her  merchants  prosecuted  this  detestable  traffic.  It 
was  abandoned  at  length,  with  slavery  itself,  under  the  mild 
and  humanizing  influence  of  Christianity.* 

What  reflections  are  not  awakened  by  the  fact,  that,  ten 
centuries  ago,  two  thirds  of  the  population  of  England,  the 

*  Lingard's  History  of  England,  Vol.  I.  p.  502. 


448  AGRICULTURE. 

land  of  our  forefathers,  were  born  slaves,  who  wore  dogs 
collars  soldered  round  their  necks,  and  were  bought  and  sold 
in  the  market ! 

But  these  are  times  long  since  past.  Let  us  proceed  to 
the  next  topic  which  invites  our  attention,  —  the  condition 
of  the  cultivators  of  the  soil,  at  the  present  day,  and  espe- 
cially their  comparative  condition  in  Europe  and  America. 
I  do  not  know  in  what  way  so  effectually  the  New  England 
yeoman  can  be  made  proud  of  his  calling,  and  happy  in  its 
pursuit,  as  by  instituting  this  comparison. 

There  are,  then,  four  principal  states  or  conditions  in  which 
the  agricultural  population  of  modern  Europe  and  America 
is  found ;  and  among  these  four  states  I  do  not  include  that 
of  the  West  Indian  and  North  American  slaves. 

First  and  lowest  in  the  scale  of  those  by  whom  the  soil  is 
cultivated  in  Europe,  are  the  serfs  of  Russia.  In  the  differ- 
ent provinces  of  this  vast  empire,  about  thirty  millions  of 
souls  (nearly  the  entire  population  employed  in  husbandry) 
are  found  almost  exactly  in  the  state  which  has  already  been 
described,  under  the  feudal  system.  Some  ameliorations 
have  been  introduced  in  some  provinces,  and  not  in  others  ; 
and  in  the  south-western  portions  of  the  empire,  as  Courland 
and  Livonia,  principally  settled  by  Germans,  the  system  of 
actual  slavery  has  been  abolished  by  law.  But  with  these 
local  exceptions,  the  Russian  peasantry  continue  the  property 
of  the  land  owner,  and  may  be  sold  by  him  with  or  without 
the  land,  as  he  pleases.  He  has  power  to  give  or  to  sell  them 
their  freedom,  and  power  to  keep  them  in  slavery ;  the  power 
to  chastise  them,  and  to  imprison  them ;  and  in  all  respects 
to  dispose  of  them,  with  the  exception  of  taking  life,  or 
preventing  their  being  enlisted  into  the  army.  But  when  a 
draught  is  ordered  by  the  government,  the  landlord  directs  who 
shall  march.  The  wealth  of  a  great  landholder  is  estimated 
by  the  number  of  his  peasants;  and  individuals  in  the  Rus- 
sian empire  are  named,  who  possess  a  hundred  thousand,  and 
even  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  serfs.  Each  individual 
peasant,  of  either  sex,  is  bound,  from  the  age  of  fifteen,  to 
pay  the  avrock,  or  capitation  tax,  of  about  four  dollars  per 


AGRICULTURE.  449 

annum.  This  is  taken  in  lieu  of  performing  three  days' 
labor  in  each  week,  to  which  the  landlord  is  entitled  by  the 
law.  In  addition  to  this,  the  serf  has  to  account  to  his  lord 
for  a  certain  part  of  all  his  produce ;  and  besides  all,  he  is 
subject  to  the  government  taxes.  If  the  peasant  chooses  to 
make  an  effort  to  rise  above  his  condition,  he  must  apply  to 
his  lord  for  permission  to  leave  the  spot  where  he  was  born, 
and  pursue  some  other  trade.  If  this  occupation  be  a  more 
lucrative  one,  his  annual  tax  is  proportionably  increased.* 
Such  is  the  condition  of  the  entire  civilized  portion  of  the 
Russian  empire  ;  and  it  is  needless  to  state,  that  it  places  this 
portion  far  below  the  wild  Tartars,  who  own  a  nominal  sub- 
jection to  the  Russian  sceptre,  and  pay  a  trifling  tribute  for 
the  privilege  of  roaming  their  remote  steppes  unmolested 
and  free. 

I  have  already  remarked  that  the  condition  in  which  the 
agricultural  population  exists  in  Russia  is  but  little,  if  any, 
better  than  that  of  the  vassals  under  the  feudal  system.  When 
this  system  was  undermined,  the  character  of  the  peasantry 
assumed  a  new  form,  in  which  it  still  exists,  in  a  considerable 
part  of  Europe.  The  sovereigns  found  it  for  their  interest 
to  weaken  the  power  of  the  great  barons  by  granting  privi- 
leges to  their  small  retainers ;  and  either  from  the  same 
motives  of  policy,  or  from  higher  considerations  of  Christian 
charity,  the  church  of  Rome  united  with  the  kings  in  elevat- 
ing the  condition  of  the  peasantry.  Pope  Alexander  III.,  in 
the  twelfth  century,  published  a  bull  for  the  general  emanci- 
pation of  slaves.f  By  degrees  the  villains  (for  such  was  the 
ill-omened  name  given  by  our  forefathers  to  the  cultivators 
of  the  soil)  rose  to  the  possession  of  some  of  the  rights  of 
freemen ;  but  it  was  not  till  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  that  vil- 

*  Clarke's  Travels  in  Russia,  Vol.  I.  p.  218,  where  will  be  found,  in  a 
note,  a  very  interesting  extract  on  this  subject,  from  Bishop  Heber's  MS. 
Journal.  I  believe  that  since  this  Address  was  written,  important  steps 
have  been  taken  in  Russia  towards  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs  of 
the  crown. 

t  Smith's  Wealth  of  Nations,  Vol.  II.  p.  91.    London,  1822. 
VOL  i.  57 


450  AGRICULTURE. 

lanage  was  virtually  suppressed  by  statute.*  On  the  conti- 
nent of  Europe,  when  the  abject  servitude  of  the  feudal 
system  was  broken  up,  the  peasants  became  tenants  at  the 
halves  ;  and  such  are  a  considerable  portion  of  the  cultivators 
of  the  soil  at  the  present  day.  It  was  calculated  that  in 
France,  before  the  revolution,  seven  eighths  of  the  agricul- 
tural population  were  Metayers,  that  is,  tenants  at  the  halves. 
The  revolution  has  greatly  increased  the  number  of  small 
proprietors,  in  consequence  of  the  sale  of  the  estates  of  emi- 
grants, and  of  the  public  domain ;  but  one  half  of  the  culti- 
vators of  the  soil,  it  is  supposed,  are  still  tenants  at  the  halves. 
Such  a  tenancy  is  not  wholly  unheard  of  in  this  country. 
The  estates  in  Lombardy,  and  in  some  other  parts  of  Italy, 
are  cultivated  in  this  way.  The  terms  of  the  contract  be- 
tween the  landlord  and  the  tenant  are  not  uniform ;  in  some 
cases  a  third,  and  in  others  a  half,  of  the  produce  belongs  to 
the  landlord.  In  some  cases  the  landlord  finds  the  whole  of 
the  stock  and  the  seed,  in  others  the  half.  In  some  cases, 
the  tenant  has  a  property  in  the  lease,  which  descends  to  his 
children ;  in  others,  he  is  a  tenant  at  will ;  in  others,  the 
leases  are  periodically  renewed  at  short  intervals.  But,  how- 
ever the  details  may  vary,  the  system  resolves  itself,  in  the 
main,  into  a  general  system  of  tenancy  at  the  halves.  It  is 
considered  highly  unfavorable  to  the  improvement  of  agricul- 
ture. There  is  a  constant  struggle,  on  the  side  of  each 
party,  to  get  as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  land,  with  the 
least  possible  outlay.  The  tenant  has  no  interest  in  using 
the  stock  with  care  and  prudence,  as  this  is  to  be  replaced 
by  the  landlord.  In  France,  the  effect  of  this  system  is 
acknowledged  by  the  best  writers  in  that  country  to  be  per- 
nicious, f  A  better  account  of  it  is  given  in  Lombardy. 

*  2  Blackstone,  96. 

f  Say,  Tom.  II.  p.  174.  See  also  Arthur  Young's  Tour.  The  views 
taken  in  this  Address  of  all  the  subjects  alluded  to  are  necessarily  super- 
ficial. A  very  instructive  discussion  of  the  condition  of  the  cultivators  of 
the  soil  in  the  different  states  of  modern  Europe  maybe  found  in  Sismondi'a 
NouveauT  Principes  (fEconomie  poliiique,,  Tom.  I.  p.  186. 


AGRICULTURE.  45l 

There  the  tenant  has  the  whole  of  the  clover,  and  divides 
only  the  wheat,  Indian  corn,  flax,  wine,  and  silk.  The  land- 
lord advances  nothing  but  the  taxes. 

This  mode  of  occupying  the  land  was  formerly  common 
in  England,  but  is  little  known  there  at  the  present  day. 
The  great  majority  of  farms  are  there  the  property  of  large 
landholders;  and  are  cultivated  by  tenants,  who  take  them 
on  leases,  the  terms  of  which  vary  according  to  circum- 
stances, both  as  to  the  amount  of  the  rent  and  the  duration 
of  the  lease. 

It  has  been  a  question  much  debated  in  England,  whether 
a  system  of  this  kind,  by  which  the  land  is  principally  held 
in  large  farms  belonging  to  the  aristocracy  of  the  country, 
and  cultivated  by  tenants  on  lease,  is  more  favorable  to  the 
improvement  of  agriculture  than  the  multiplication  of  small 
farms,  belonging  to  those  who  till  them.  It  has  been  urged 
that  great  and  expensive  improvements  in  farming  cannot 
take  place  without  great  capital,  which  can  only  be  furnished 
by  large  proprietors.  It  is  they  alone  who  can  reclaim 
wastes,  convert  sandy  plains  into  fertile  fields,  drain  extensive 
fens,  or  shut  out  the  sea  from  large  tracts  of  meadow.  All 
this  is  true  ;  but  where  great  improvements  are  made  by  the 
application  of  large  amounts  of  capital,  the  return  is  not  to 
the  tenant,  but  to  the  capitalist.  A  judicious  operation  upon 
a  poor  soil,  may  turn  it  into  a  good  one ;  the  soil  may  pro- 
duce twice  as  much  as  it  did  before ;  but  the  rent,  in  that 
case,  will  be  doubled.  The  landlord  has  doubled  his  capital, 
but  it  will  depend  on  other  circumstances  whether  any  ben- 
eficial change  is  produced  in  the  condition  of  the  tenant. 
The  neighborhood,  it  is  true,  will  be  improved  by  the  new 
creation  of  property  ;  the  population  will  increase  ;  and,  indi- 
rectly, every  individual's  condition  will  be  improved,  by  liv- 
ing in  a  larger  community ;  but  directly,  I  cannot  perceive 
that  the  tenant  is  benefited  ;  inasmuch  as  it  is  plain  that  pre- 
cisely as  the  land  is  rendered  more  productive,  the  rent  in- 
creases. As  the  landed  interest  in  England  is  the  main  interest 
of  the  country,  and  the  accumulation  of  large  estates  in  land 
is  the  most  important  element  in  their  system,  every  thing  is 


152  AGRICULTURE. 

made  to  favor  this  mode  of  cultivating  the  land,  and  the  small 
proprietor  labors  under  great  disadvantages.  Wherever  he 
moves,  he  has  a  wealthy  rival  to  contend  with,  able  to  over- 
bid and  to  undersell  him  ;  and  as  things  now  are  in  England, 
it  is  very  possible  that  the  condition  of  the  tenant  in  that 
country  is  more  desirable  than  that  of  the  small  farmer.  But 
this,  I  conceive,  proves  nothing  in  the  argument  whether  the 
condition  of  the  tenant  or  the  proprietor  of  a  small  farm  is  to 
be  preferred.  It  is,  in  fact,  justly  made  a  leading  objection 
to  the  English  system  of  tenancy,  by  the  learned  French 
writer  already  quoted,  (M.  de  Sismondi,*)  that  it  tends  to  the 
extermination  of  the  small  proprietors,  and  to  reduce  the  cot- 
tagers, peasants,  and  all  those  by  whom,  under  whatever 
name,  the  labor  of  cultivation  is  performed,  to  a  state  of 
abject  and  servile  dependence. 

This  brings  me  to  the  consideration  of  the  fourth  and  last 
state  in  which  the  cultivator  of  the  soil  is  found  ;  and  that  is, 
the  condition  which  almost  universally  obtains  in  the  non- 
slaveholding  states  of  this  country,  and  especially  in  New 
England,  in  which  the  farmer  is  the  proprietor  of  the  soil  • 
and  I  cannot  but  express  my  decided  conviction  that  this  con- 
dition is  the  most  favorable  to  the  prosperity  of  the  state  and 
the  happiness  of  the  individual.  It  will  immediately  be  per- 
ceived that  it  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  possession  of  some 
very  ample  landed  estates  by  individuals.  In  a  country  like 
ours,  where  every  man's  capacity,  industry,  and  good  fortune 
are  left  free  to  work  their  way  without  prejudice,  as  far  as 
possible,  there  will  be  among  the  agricultural,  as  well  as 
among  the  commercial  population,  fortunes  of  all  sizes ;  from 
that  of  the  man  who  owns  his  thousand  acres,  his  droves  of 
cattle,  his  flocks  of  sheep,  his  range  of  pastures,  his  broad 
fields  of  mowing  and  tillage,  down  to  the  poor  cottager,  who 
can  scarce  keep  his  cow  over  winter.  There  will  always  be, 
in  a  population  like  ours,  opportunities  enough  for  those  who 
cannot  own  a  farm,  to  hire  one ;  and  for  those  who  cannot 
hire  one,  to  labor  in  the  employment  of  their  neighbors,  who 

*  Nouveaux  Principes,  Tom.  I.  p.  217 


AGRICULTURE.  453 

need  their  services ;  and  when  we  maintain  that  it  is  for  the 
welfare  of  the  society,  that  the  land  should  be  cultivated  by 
an  independent  yeomanry,  who  own  the  soil  they  till,  we 
mean  only  that  this  should  be  the  general  state  and  condition 
of  things,  and  not  that  there  should  be  no  such  thing  as  a 
wealthy  proprietor,  whose  lands,  in  whole  or  in  part,  are 
cultivated  by  a  tenant ;  —  no  such  thing  as  a  prudent  hus- 
bandman taking  a  farm  on  a  lease  ;  —  or  an  industrious  young 
man,  without  any  capital  but  his  hands,  laboring  in  the  em- 
ploy of  his  neighbor.  These  all  are  parts  of  the  system 
as  it  exists  among  us.  And  we  maintain  that  it  is  a  better 
system  than  the  division  of  the  country  into  a  few  vast 
domains,  cultivated  by  a  dependent  tenantry,  to  the  almost 
total  exclusion  of  the  class  of  small  independent  farmers. 

Am  I  asked,  Why  is  it  better  ?  This  is  a  question  riot  easy 
to  bring  down  to  a  dry  argument.  It  involves  political  and 
moral  considerations;  it  trenches  on  the  province  of  the  feel- 
ings ;  it  concerns  the  whole  character  of  a  people. 

In  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  it  is  not,  of  course,  main- 
tained that,  because  it  is  desirable  that  the  cultivator  should 
own  a  farm,  it  is  therefore  expedient  that  he  should,  in  all 
cases,  attempt  to  purchase  one.  It  cannot,  as  a  general  rule, 
be  assumed  that  it  is  better  for  a  young  man  to  buy  a  farm 
than  to  hire  one,  supposing  him  to  have  no  more  capital  than 
is  necessary  to  stock  his  farm,  and  purchase  implements  of 
husbandry.  If  he  buys,  he  must  mortgage  his  farm  for  the 
payment ;  and  the  interest  on  the  purchase  money  will  per- 
haps be  greater  than  the  rent  he  would  have  to  pay  for  a  farm 
equally  good.  Whether  it  is  good  policy  for  a  man  not  having 
capital  enough  at  once  to  pay  for  his  farm,  to  buy  one,  depends 
upon  his  energy  and  talent,  the  situation  and  quality  of  the 
farm,  and  the  prospect  that,  within  a  reasonable  period  of 
time,  and  the  enjoyment  of  an  average  success,  he  can  pay 
for  it.  If  he  cannot  do  this,  he  can  in  no  sense  become  the 
owner  of  a  farm ;  he  can  only  encumber  himself  with  the 
responsibility  of  it,  paying  more  in  the  shape  of  interest  than 
he  would  have  to  pay  in  that  of  rent.  But,  supposing  a  young 
man  at  the  commencement  of  life,  and  desirous  of  passing 


454  AGRICULTURE. 

his  da^s  on  the  soil  which  gave  h:m  birth,  having  so  much 
capital,  that,  besides  stocking  a  farm,  he  can  do  something 
towards  its  purchase  at  the  outset,  with  a  reasonable  expecta- 
tion that,  in  the  course  of  time,  with  industry,  perseverance, 
and  temperance,  he  can  make  it  his  own,  then  it  is  better  that 
he  should  purchase  than  hire.  He  has  then  the  strongest 
inducements  to  be  industrious,  frugal,  and  temperate ;  for 
every  dollar  he  can  save  passes  silently  into  investment,  in 
paying  off  his  debt.  The  earnings  of  the  tenant  are  in  dan- 
ger of  being  needlessly  spent  or  lost,  for  want  of  a  safe  and 
ready  investment.  The  owner  makes  improvements  with 
zeal  and  spirit,  for  he  makes  them  on  his  own  soil,  in  the 
assurance  that  he  or  his  children  will  reap  the  benefit  of  them ; 
and  every  new  improvement  furnishes  a  new  stimulus  to 
those  efforts  which  are  necessary  to  pay  off  the  debt.  But 
no  person  takes  a  genuine  pleasure  in  improving  another 
man's  property.  It  is  the  interest  of  the  tenant  to  get  as 
much  out  of  the  soil  as  he  can,  and  to  give  as  little  back  to 
it.  When  he  has  exhausted  one  farm,  he  can  take  another. 
Thus  the  land,  as  far  as  it  is  cultivated  in  this  way,  is  under- 
going a  gradual  decay  ;  but  not  more  surely  than  the  generous 
principle  in  the  heart  of  him  who  thus  occupies  it,  and  who 
is  perpetually,  though  perhaps  unconsciously,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  his  interest,  engaged  in  deteriorating  his  neighbor's 
property.  The  owner  is  under  precisely  the  opposite  influ- 
ence, and  especially  while  it  is  necessary  to  make  his  farm  as 
productive  as  possible.  He  strives  to  render  back  to  it  as 
much  as  possible,  in  return  for  what  he  takes  from  it.  For 
he  feels  that  he  is  making  it  the  depository  of  ail  that  his 
youth  and  manhood  can  lay  up  for  the  decline  of  life,  for 
his  family,  and  his  children. 

Whatever,  in  this  way,  is  true  with  respect  to  the  young 
farmer  who  has  purchased  his  farm  on  credit,  is  still  more 
applicable  to  him  who  happily  begins  life  the  proprietor  of 
the  soil  which  he  cultivates.  It  is  particularly  in  reference 
to  him  that  the  subject  presents  itself  in  other  relations  than 
those  of  pecuniary  calculation,  and  assumes  the  aspect  not 
merely  of  an  economical,  but  also  of  a  political  question 


AGRICULTURE.  456 

In  general,  the  inquiry  how  the  land  is  cultivated  derives 
great  consequence  from  its  connection  with  the  political  con- 
dition of  the  cultivators.  A  very  considerable  portion  of  the 
political  power  of  every  country  must  be  vested  in  the  land- 
holders; for  they  hold  a  large  part  of  the  property  of  the 
country.  They  do  so  even  in  England,  where  there  is  such 
a  vast  amount  of  commercial  and  manufacturing  wealth. 
Although  the  land  is  to  a  considerable  degree,  in  England, 
monopolized  by  rich  proprietors,  yet  attempts  have  been 
made,  and  with  success,  to  give  political  privileges  and  conse- 
quence to  the  tenantry.  Still,  however,  the  greatest  land- 
holder, in  most  of  the  countries,  is  generally  able  to  carry  the 
elections  as  he  pleases.  I  have  read,  and  that,  too,  since  the 
passage  of  the  reform  bill,  in  the  English  newspapers,  of 
voters  being  refused  a  renewal  of  leases,  which  had  been  in 
the  family  two  generations,  in  consequence  of  voting  against 
their  landlord's  candidate.  There  is  no  way  in  which  a  calm, 
orderly,  and  intelligent  exercise  and  control  of  political  power 
can  be  assured  to  the  people,  but  by  a  distribution  among 
them,  as  equally  as  possible,  of  the  property  of  the  country ; 
and  I  know  no  manner  in  which  such  a  distribution  can 
be  permanently  and  peacefully  effected,  but  by  keeping  the 
land  in  smaH  farms,  suitable  to  be  cultivated  by  their  owners. 
Under  such  a  system,  and  under  no  other,  the  people  will 
exercise  their  rights  with  independence.  The  assumption  of 
a  right  to  dictate  will  be  frowned  at,  if  attempted ;  and  even 
the  small  portion  of  the  population  who  may  be  tenants  will 
possess  the  spirit  and  freedom  of  the  proprietors.  But  when 
the  great  mass  of  the  land  is  parcelled  out  into  a  few  immense 
estates,  cultivated  by  a  dependent  tenantry,  the  unavoidable 
consequence  is  a  sort  of  revival  of  the  state  of  things  which 
existed  in  the  feudal  ages,  when  the  great  barons  took  the 
field  against  each  other  at  the  head  of  their  vassals.* 

But  I  own  it  is  not  even  on  political  grounds  that  I  think 
our  system  of  independent  rural  freeholders  is  most  strongly 

*  Story's  Commentaries,  I.  pp.  160 — 166L 


456  AGRICULTURE. 

entitled  to  the  preference.  Its  moral  aspects,  its  connection 
with  the  character  and  feelings  of  the  yeomanry,  give  it,  after 
all,  its  greatest  value.  The  man  who  stands  upon  his  own  soil, 
who  feels  that  by  the  laws  of  the  land  in  which  he  lives,  by 
the  law  of  civilized  nations,  he  is  the  rightful  and  exclusive 
owner  of  the  land  which  he  tills,  is.  by  the  constitution  of 
our  nature,  under  a  wholesome  influence,  not  easily  imbibed 
from  any  other  source.  He  feels,  other  things  being  equal, 
more  strongly  than  another  the  character  of  man  as  the  lord 
of  the  inanimate  world.  Of  this  great  and  wonderful 
sphere,  which,  fashioned  by  the  hand  of  God,  and  upheld  by 
his  power,  is  rolling  through  the  heavens,  a  portion  is  his,  — 
his,  from  the  centre  to  the  sky.  It  is  the  space  on  which  the 
generations  before  him  moved  in  their  round  of  duties ;  and 
he  feels  himself  connected,  by  a  visible  link,  with  those  who 
preceded  him,  as  he  is,  also,  with  those  who  will  follow  him, 
and  to  whom  he  is  to  transmit  a  home.  Perhaps  his  farm 
has  come  down  to  him  from  his  fathers.  They  have  gone  to 
their  last  home  ;  but  he  can  trace  their  footsteps  over  the 
daily  scene  of  his  labors.  The  roof  which  shelters  him  was 
reared  by  those  to  whom  he  owes  his  being.  Some  inter- 
esting domestic  tradition  is  connected  with  every  enclosure. 
The  favorite  fruit  tree  was  planted  by  his  father's' hand.  He 
sported  in  his  boyhood  by  the  side  of  the  brookj  which  still 
winds  through  his  meadow.  Through  that  field  lies  the 
path  to  the  village  school  of  his  earliest  days.  He  still  hears 
from  his  window  the  voice  of  the  Sabbath  bell,  which  called 
his  fathers  and  his  forefathers  to  the  house  of  God ;  and  near 
at  hand  is  the  spot  where  he  laid  his  parents  down  to  rest, 
and  where  he  trusts,  when  his  hour  is  come,  he  shall  be  duti- 
fully laid  by  his  children.  These  are  the  feelings  of  the 
owner  of  the  soil.  Words  cannot  paint  them ;  gold  cannot 
buy  them ;  they  flow  out  of  the  deepest  fountains  of  the 
heart ;  they  are  the  life-spring  of  a  fresh,  healthy,  generous, 
national  character. 

The  history  and  experience  of  the  world  illustrate  their 
power.     Who  ever  heard  of  an  enlightened  race  of  serfs 


AGRICULTURE.  457 

slaves,  or  vassals  ?  How  can  we  wonder  at  the  forms  of 
government  which  prevail  in  Europe,  with  such  a  system  of 
monopoly  in  the  land  as  there  exists?  Nothing  but  this 
explains  our  own  history,  clears  up  the  mystery  of  the  revo- 
lution, and  makes  us  fully  comprehend  the  secret  of  our  own 
strength.  Austria  or  France  must  fall,  whenever  Vienna  or 
Paris  is  seized  by  a  powerful  army.  But  what  was  the  loss 
of  Boston  or  New  York,  in  the  revolutionary  war,  to  the 
people  of  New  England  ?  The  moment  the  enemy  set  his 
foot  in  the  country,  he  was  like  the  hunter  going  to  the 
thicket  to  rob  the  tigress  of  her  young.  The  officers  and 
soldiers  of  the  revolution  were  farmers  and  sons  of  farmers, 
who  owned  the  soil  for  which  they  fought ;  and  many  of 
them,  like  the  veteran  Putnam,  literally  left  their  ploughs  in 
the  furrow  to  hasten  to  the  field.  The  attempt  to  conquer 
such  a  population  is  as  chimerical  as  it  would  be  to  march  an 
army  down  to  the  sea-shore,  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  when  the 
tide  is  rolling  in  seventy  feet  high,  in  order  to  beat  back  the 
waves  with  their  bucklers. 

But  it  is  time  to  conclude.  When  the  civil  wars  of  Rome 
were  over,  Virgil  was  requested  by  the  Emperor  Augustus  to 
write  a  poem  on  agriculture,  in  order  to  encourage  the  Italian 
husbandmen  to  return  to  the  culture  of  their  wasted  fields. 
The  farmers  in  Italy  at  that  time  were  mostly  tenants  at  the 
halves ;*  but  the  philosophic  poet  could  not  help  pronoun- 
cing even  them  too  happy,  did  they  but  know  their  blessings, 
After  having  compared,  with  some  attention,  the  various  con- 
ditions in  which  man  is  found,  in  the  principal  countries  of 
Europe  and  in  America,  I  have  come  to  the  undoubting  con- 
clusion, that  there  is  not  a  population  on  earth,  taken  as  a 
whole,  so  highly  favored  in  the  substantial  blessings  of  life, 
as  the  yeomanry  of  New  England.  There  are  other  coun- 
tries that  surpass  us  in  wealth  and  power ;  in  military 
strength  ;  in  magnificence,  and  the  display  of  the  expensive 
arts  ;  but  none  which  can  so  justly  lay  claim  to  the  character 
of  a  free  and  happy  commonwealth,  —  none  in  which  the 

*  Colon!  partiarii. 
VOL.  i.  58 


458  AGRICULTURE. 

image  of  a  state,  sketched  by  the  philosophic  poet,  is  sc 
beautifully  realized  — 

"  What  constitutes  a  state  ? 
Not  high-raised  battlement,  and  labored  mound, 

Thick  wall  or  moated  gate ; 
Not  cities  proud,  with  spires  and  turrets  crowned ; 

Not  bays  and  broad-armed  ports, 
Where,  laughing  at  the  storm,  proud  navies  ride; 

Not  starred  and  spangled  courts, 
Where  low-browed  baseness  wafts  perfumes  to  pride. 

No  !  men !  high-minded  men, 

Men  who  their  duties  know, 
But  know  their  rights,  —  and  knowing,  dare  maintain,— 

Prevent  the  long-aimed  blow, 
And  crush  the  tyrant,  while  they  rend  the  chain;  — 

These  constitute  a  state, 
And  sovereign  law,  that  state's  collected  will, 

O'er  thrones  and  globes  elate, 
Sits  empress,  crowning  good,  repressing  UL" 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.* 


PREFATORY  NOTE,  FROM  THE  ORIGINAL  EDITION. 

To  avoid  the  necessity  of  frequent  marginal  references,  I  would  observe, 
that  the  account  of  Lafayette's  first  visit  to  America  is  chiefly  taken  from  a 
very  interesting  article  on  that  subject,  communicated  by  Mr  Sparks  to  the 
Boston  Daily  Advertiser,  of  26th  June,  183-t,  from  his  edition  of  Washing- 
ton's Works,  now  in  the  press.  Among  the  other  authorities  which  I  have 
consulted  are  the  well-known  works  of  Sarrans,  the  Memoirs  of  Lafayette  and 
the  Constitutional  Assembly,  by  Regnault-Warin,  Montgaillard's  History  of 
France,  from  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  to  the  year  1825,  and  Mr 
Ticknor's  beautiful  sketch  of  the  life  of  Lafayette,  originally  published  in  the 
North  American  Review.  But  I  owe  a  more  particular  acknowledgment  to 
Mr  Sparks,  who  not  only  furnished  me  with  the  sheets  of  those  parts  of  the 
unpublished  volumes  of  Washington's  Works  which  throw  light  on  the  mili- 
tary services  of  Lafayette  in  the  war  of  the  American  revolution,  but  placed 
in  my  hands  a  great  mass  of  original  papers,  of  the  highest  interest  and 
value,  relating  to  the  career  of  Lafayette,  and  furnished  to  Mr  Sparks  by  the 
general  himself,  from  his  own  collections  and  the  public  offices  at  Paris. 
These  papers  contain  the  Correspondence  of  Lafayette  with  Washington,  from 
the  ynar  1778  to  his  death  ;  his  Correspondence  and  Notes  of  his  Conferences 
with  the  Count  de  Vergennes  and  other  French  ministers ;  his  Correspond- 
ence with  his  family  and  friends,  from  America  and  from  his  prisons  in  Ger- 
many ;  Notes  and  Commentaries  on  the  most  important  incidents  of  his  life ;  his 
Correspondence  with  the  Governor  of  Virginia  and  officers  of  the  army,  especial- 
ly during  the  campaign  of  1781,  and  miscellaneous  papers  bearing  on  the  main 
subject.  They  form  altogether  ample  materials  for  a  history  of  the  life  and 
services  of  Lafayette  ;  a  work  which  no  one  is  so  well  qualified  as  Mr  Sparks 
to  execute,  and  which,  it  is  greatly  to  be  wished,  he  might  be  induced  to 
undertake. 

*  Delivered  in  Faneuil  Hall,  at  the  request  of  the  young  men  of  Boston,  on  the  Cth  uf  Sep- 
tember 1834 

(459) 


EULOGY. 


WHEN  I  look  round  upon  this  vast  audience,  and  reflect 
upon  the  deep  interest  manifested  by  so  many  intelligent 
persons  in  the  occasion  which  has  called  us  together,  —  when 
I  consider  the  variety,  the  importance,  and  singularity  of  the 
events  which  must  pass  in  review  before  us,  and  the  extraor- 
dinary character  of  the  man  whom  we  commemorate,  —  his 
connection  with  Europe  and  America,  in  the  most  critical 
periods  of  their  history,  —  his  intercourse  in  both  hemispheres 
with  the  master  spirits  of  the  age,  —  his  auspicious,  long  pro- 
tracted, and  glorious  career,  alternating  with  fearful  rapidity 
from  one  extreme  of  fortune  to  the  other,  —  and  when  I  feel 
that  I  am  expected,  by  the  great  multitude  I  have  the  honor 
to  address,  —  the  flower  of  this  metropolis,  —  to  say  some- 
thing not  inappropriate  to  such  an  occasion,  nor  wholly 
beneath  the  theme,  I  am  oppressed  with  the  weight  of  the 
duty  I  am  to  perform.  I  know  not  how,  in  the  brief  space 
allotted  to  me,  to  take  up  and  dispose  of  a  subject  so  vast  and 
comprehensive.  I  would  even  now,  were  it  possible,  retire 
from  the  undertaking  ;  and  leave  to  your  own  hearts,  borne 
upwards  with  the  swelling  strains  of  yonder  choir,  —  whose 
pious  and  plaintive  melody  is  just  dying  on  the  ear,  —  to 
muse,  in  expressive  silence,  the  praise  of  him  we  celebrate. 
But  since  this  may  not  be,  —  since  the  duty  devolved  upon 
me  must,  however  feebly,  be  discharged,  —  let  me,  like  the 
illustrious  subject  of  our  contemplation,  gather  strength  from 
the  magnitude  of  the  task.  Let  me  calmly  trace  him  through 
those  lofty  and  perilous  paths  of  duty  which  he  trod  with 
serenity  while  empires  were  toppling  round  him  ;  and, 

(460) 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  461 

trampling  under  foot  the  arts  of  the  rhetorician,  as  he  tram- 
pled under  foot  all  the  bribes  of  vanity,  avarice,  and  ambition, 
and  all  the  delights  of  life,  let  me,  in  the  plainness  of  history 
and  the  boldness  of  truth,  not  wholly  uncongenial  to  the 
character  of  the  man  I  would  reproduce  to  your  admiration 
and  love,  discharge  as  I  may  the  great  duty  which  you  have 
assigned  to  me. 

There  is,  at  every  great  era  of  the  history  of  the  world,  a 
leading  principle,  which  gives  direction  to  the  fortunes  of 
nations  and  the  characters  of  distinguished  men.  This  prin- 
ciple, in  our  own  time,  is  that  of  the  action  and  reaction  upon 
each  other  of  Europe  and  America,  for  the  advancement  of 
free  institutions  and  the  promotion  of  rational  liberty.  Ever 
since  the  discovery  of  America,  this  principle  has  been  in 
operation,  but  naturally  and  necessarily  with  vastly  increased 
energy,  since  the  growth  of  a  civilized  population  this  side 
the  water.  For  the  formation  of  a  man  of  truly  great  char- 
acter, it  is  necessary  that  he  should  be  endowed  with  qualities 
to  win  respect  and  love  ;  that  he  should  be  placed  in  cir- 
cumstances favorable  to  a  powerful  action  on  society  ;  and 
then,  that,  with  a  pure  affection,  a  strong,  disinterested,  glow- 
ing zeal,  —  a  holy  ambition  of  philanthropy,  —  he  should 
devote  himself  to  the  governing  principle  of  the  age.  Such 
a  combination,  humanly  speaking,  produces  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  perfection  which  the  sphere  of  man  admits.  Of 
such  characters  the  American  revolution  was  more  than 
commonly  fertile,  for  it  was  the  very  crisis  of  that  action  and 
reaction  which  is  the  vocation  of  the  age.  Such  a  character 
was  Washington  ;  such  was  Lafayette. 

He  was  born  at  Chavaniac,  in  the  ancient  province  of 
Auvergne,  in  France,  on  the  sixth  day  of  September,  1757  — 
seventy-seven  years  ago,  this  day.  His  family  was  one  of 
the  most  ancient  in  the  country,  and  of  the  highest  rank  in 
the  French  nobility.  As  far  back  as  the  fifteenth  century, 
one  of  his  ancestors,  a  marshal  of  France,  was  distinguished 
for  his  military  achievements  ;  his  uncle  fell  in  the  wars  of 
Italy,  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century ;  and  his  father  lost 
his  life  in  the  Seven  Years'  war,  at  the  battle  of  Minden. 


462  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

His  mother  died  soon  after  ;  and  he  was  thus  left  an  orphan 
at  an  early  age,  heir  to  an  immense  estate,  and  exposed  to  all 
the  dangers  incident  to  youth,  rank,  and  fortune,  in  the  gayest 
and  most  luxurious  city  on  earth,  at  the  period  of  its  greatest 
corruption.  He  escaped  unhurt.  Having  completed  the 
usual  academical  course,  at  the  college  of  Duplessis,  in  Paris, 
he  married,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  the  daughter  of  the  Duke 
D'Ayen,  of  the  family  of  Noailles,  somewhat  younger  than 
himself,  and  at  all  times  the  noble  encourager  of  his  virtues, 
the  heroic  partner  of  his  sufferings,  of  his  great  name,  and  of 
his  honorable  grave. 

The  family  to  which  he  thus  became  allied  was  then,  and 
for  fifty  years  had  been,  in  the  highest  favor  at  the  French 
court.  Himself  the  youthful  heir  of  one  of  the  oldest  and 
richest  houses  in  France,  the  path  of  advancement  was  open 
before  him.  He  was  offered  a  brilliant  place  in  the  royal 
household.  At  an  age  and  in  a  situation  most  likely  to  be 
caught  by  the  attraction,  he  declined  the  proffered  distinction, 
impatient  of  the  attendance  at  court  which  it  required.  He 
felt,  from  his  earliest  years,  that  he  was  not  born  to  loiter  in 
an  ante-chamber.  The  sentiment  of  liberty  was  already 
awakened  in  his  bosom.  Having,  while  yet  at  college, 
been  required,  as  an  exercise  in  composition,  to  describe 
the  well-trained  charger,  obedient  even  to  the  shadow  of 
the  whip,  he  represented  the  noble  animal,  on  the  con- 
trary, as  rearing  at  the  sight  of  it,  and  throwing  his  rider. 
With  this  feeling,  the  profession  of  arms  was,  of  course,  the 
most  congenial  to  him  ;  and  was,  in  fact,  with  the  exception 
of  that  of  courtier,  the  only  one  open  to  a  young  French 
nobleman  before  the  revolution. 

In  the  summer  of  1776,  and  just  after  the  American  decla- 
ration of  independence,  Lafayette  was  stationed  at  Metz,  a 
garrisoned  town  on  the  road  from  Paris  to  the  German  fron- 
tier, with  the  regiment  to  which  he  was  attached  as  a  captain 
of  dragoons,  not  then  nineteen  years  of  age.  The  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  the  brother  of  the  King  of  England,  happened  to 
be  on  a  visit  to  Metz,  and  a  dinner  was  given  to  him  by  the 
commandant  of  the  garrison.  Lafayette  was  invited,  with 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  463 

other  officers,  to  the  entertainment.  Despatches  had  just 
been  received  by  the  duke,  from  England,  relating  to  Ameri- 
can affairs  —  the  resistance  of  the  colonists,  and  the  strong 
measures  adopted  by  the  ministers  to  crush  the  rebellion. 
Among  the  details  stated  by  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  was  the 
extraordinary  fact,  that  these  remote,  scattered,  and  unprotect- 
ed settlers  of  the  wilderness  had  solemnly  declared  themselves 
an  independent  people.  That  word  decided  the  fortunes  of 
the  enthusiastic  listener ;  and  not  more  distinctly  was  the 
great  Declaration  a  charter  of  political  liberty  to  the  rising 
states,  than  it  was  a  commission  to  their  youthful  champion 
to  devote  his  life  to  the  same  cause. 

The  details  which  he  heard  were  new  to  him.  The  Amer- 
ican contest  was  known  to  him  before  but  as  a  rebellion, — a 
tumultuary  affair  in  a  remote  transatlantic  colony.  He  now, 
with  a  promptness  of  perception  which,  even  at  this  distance 
of  time,  strikes  us  as  little  less  than  miraculous,  addressed  a 
multitude  of  inquiries  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  contest.  His  imagination  was  kindled  at  the  idea 
of  a  civilized  people  struggling  for  political  liberty.  His 
heart  was  warmed  with  the  possibility  of  drawing  his  sword 
in  a  good  cause.  Before  he  left  the  table,  his  course  was 
mentally  resolved  on ;  and  the  brother  of  the  King  of  Eng- 
land (unconsciously,  no  doubt)  had  the  singular  fortune  to 
enlist,  from  the  French  court  and  the  French  army,  this  gal- 
lant and  fortunate  champion  in  the  then  unpromising  cause 
of  the  colonial  congress. 

He  immediately  repaired  to  Paris,  to  make  further  inquiries 
and  arrangements,  towards  the  execution  of  his  great  plan. 
He  confided  it  to  two  young  friends,  officers  like  himself,  the 
Count  de  Segur  and  Viscount  de  Noailles,  and  proposed  to 
them  to  join  him.  They  shared  his  enthusiasm,  and  determined 
to  accompany  him,  but,  on  consulting  their  families,  they 
were  refused  permission.  But  they  faithfully  kept  Lafay- 
ette's secret.  Happily  —  shall  I  say  —  he  was  an  orphan,  in- 
dependent of  control,  and  master  of  his  own  fortune,  amount- 
ing to  near  forty  thousand  dollars  per  annum. 

He  next  opened  his  heart  to  the  Count  de  Broglie,  a  mar- 


464  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

shal  in  the  French  army.  To  the  experienced  warrior,  accus- 
tomed to  the  regular  campaigns  of  European  service,  the 
project  seemed  rash  and  quixotic,  and  one  that  he  could  not 
countenance.  Lafayette  begged  the  count  at  least  not  to 
betray  him  ;  as  he  was  resolved  (notwithstanding  his  disap- 
proval of  the  project)  to  go  to  America.  This  the  count 
promised,  adding,  however,  "  I  saw  your  uncle  fall  in  Italy, 
and  I  witnessed  your  father's  death  at  the  battle  of  Minden, 
and  I  will  not  be  accessory  to  the  ruin  of  the  only  remaining 
branch  of  the  family."  He  then  used  all  the  powers  of  argu- 
ment which  his  age  and  experience  suggested  to  him,  to  dis- 
suade Lafayette  from  the  enterprise,  but  in  vain.  Finding 
his  determination  unalterable,  he  made  him  acquainted  with 
the  Baron  de  Kalb,  who,  the  count  knew,  was  about  to  em- 
bark for  America  ;  — an  officer  of  experience  and  merit,  who, 
as  is  well  known,  fell  at  the  battle  of  Camden. 

The  Baron  de  Kalb  introduced  Lafayette  to  Silas  Deane, 
then  agent  of  the  United  States  in  France,  who  explained  to 
him  the  state  of  affairs  in  America,  and  encouraged  him  in  his 
project.  Deane  was  but  imperfectly  acquainted  with  the 
French  language,  and  of  manners  somewhat  repulsive.  A 
less  enthusiastic  temper  than  that  of  Lafayette  might,  per- 
haps, have  been  chilled  by  the  reception  which  he  met  with 
from  Deane.  He  had,  as  yet,  not  been  acknowledged  in  any 
public  capacity ;  and  was  beset  by  the  spies  of  the  British 
ambassador.  For  these  reasons,  it  was  judged  expedient  that 
the  visit  of  Lafayette  should  not  be  repeated ;  and  their  fur- 
ther negotiations  were  conducted  through  the  intervention  of 
Mr  Carmichael,  an  American  gentleman,  at  that  time  in  Paris. 
The  arrangement  was  at  length  concluded,  in  virtue  of  which, 
Deane  took  upon  himself,  without  authority,  but  by  a  happy 
exercise  of  discretion,  to  engage  Lafayette  to  enter  the  Amer- 
ican service,  with  the  rank  of  major-general.  A  vessel  was 
about  to  be  despatched  with  arms  and  other  supplies  for  the 
American  army,  and  in  this  vessel  it  was  settled  that  he  should 
take  passage. 

At  this  juncture,  the  news  reached  France  of  the  evacua- 
tion of  New  York,  the  loss  of  Fort  Washington,  the  calami- 


EULOGY     ON    LAFAYETTE.  465 

tous  retreat  through  New  Jersey,  and  the  other  disasters  of 
the  campaign  of  1776.  The  friends  of  America  in  France 
were  in  despair.  The  tidings,  bad  in  themselves,  were  greatly 
exaggerated  in  the  British  gazettes.  The  plan  of  sending  an 
armed  vessel  with  munitions  was  abandoned.  The  cause, 
always  doubtful,  was  now  pronounced  desperate  ;  and  Lafay- 
ette was  urged  by  all  who  were  privy  to  his  project,  to  give 
up  an  enterprise  so  wild  and  hopeless.  Even  our  commis- 
sioners (for  Deane  had  been  joined  by  Dr  Franklin  and 
Arthur  Lee)  told  him  they  could  not  in  conscience  urge  him 
to  proceed.  His  answer  was,  "  My  zeal  and  love  of  liberty 
have  perhaps  hitherto  been  the  prevailing  motive  with  me ; 
but  now  I  see  a  chance  of  usefulness  which  I  had  not  antici- 
pated. These  supplies  I  know  are  greatly  wanted  by  Con- 
gress. I  have  money ;  I  will  purchase  a  vessel  to  convey 
them  to  America,  and  in  this  vessel  my  companions  and  my- 
self will  take  passage." 

Yes,  fellow-citizens,  that  I  may  repeat  an  exclamation 
uttered  ten  years  ago  by  him  who  has  now  the  honor  to 
address  you,  in  the  presence  of  an  immense  multitude,  who 
welcomed  "  the  nation's  guest "  to  the  academic  shades  of 
Harvard,  and  by  them  received  with  acclamations  of  approval 
and  tears  of  gratitude  ;  when  he  was  told  by  our  commis- 
sioners, "  that  they  did  not  possess  the  means  nor  the  credit 
to  provide  a  single  vessel  in  all  the  ports  of  France,"  "  Then," 
exclaimed  the  gallant  and  generous  youth,  "  I  will  provide 
my  own."  And  it  is  a  literal  fact,  that  when  our  beloved 
country  was  too  poor  to  offer  him  so  much  as  a  passage  to 
her  shores,  he  left,  in  his  tender  youth,  the  bosom  of  home, 
•of  happiness,  of  wealth,  and  of  rank,  to  plunge  in  the  dust 
and  blood  of  our  inauspicious  struggle. 

In  pursuance  of  the  generous  purpose  thus  conceived,  the 
secretary  of  the  Count  de  Broglie  was  employed  by  Lafay- 
ette to  purchase  and  fit  out  a  vessel  at  Bordeaux ;  and  while 
these  preparations  were  in  train,  with  a  view  of  averting 
suspicion  from  his  movements,  and  passing  the  tedious  inter- 
val, he  made  a  visit  with  a  relative  to  his  kinsman,  the  Mar- 
quis de  Noailles,  then  the  French  ambassador  in  London. 
VOL.  L  59 


466  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE 

During  their  stay  in  Great  Britain,  they  were  treated  with 
kindness  by  the  king  and  persons  of  rank  ;  but  having,  after 
a  lapse  of  three  weeks,  learned  that  his  vessel  was  ready 
at  Bordeaux,  Lafayette  suddenly  returned  to  France.  This 
visit  was  of  service  to  the  youthful  adventurer,  in  furnishing 
him  an  opportunity  to  improve  himself  in  the  English  lan- 
guage ;  but  a  nice  sense  of  honor  forbade  him  to  make  use 
of  the  opportunity  which  it  afforded  for  obtaining  military 
information,  that  could  be  of  utility  to  the  American  army. 
So  far  did  he  carry  this  scruple,  that  he  declined  visiting  the 
naval  establishment  at  Portsmouth. 

On  his  return  to  France,  he  did  not  even  visit  Paris ;  but 
after  three  days  passed  at  Passy,  the  residence  of  Dr  Frank- 
lin, he  hastened  to  Bordeaux.  Arrived  at  this  place,  he  found 
that  his  vessel  was  not  yet  ready ;  and  had  the  still  greater 
mortification  to  learn  that  the  spies  of  the  British  ambas- 
sador had  penetrated  his  designs,  and  made  them  known  to 
the  family  of  Lafayette,  and  to  the  king,  from  whom  an 
order  for  his  arrest  was  daily  expected.  Unprepared  as  his 
ship  was,  he  instantly  sailed  in  her  to  Passage,  the  nearest 
port  in  Spain,  where  he  proposed  to  wait  for  the  vessel's 
papers.  Scarcely  had  he  arrived  in  that  harbor,  when  he 
was  encountered  by  two  officers,  with  letters  from  his  family 
and  from  the  ministers,  and  a  royal  order,  directing  him  to 
join  his  father-in-law  at  Marseilles.  The  letters  from  the 
ministers  reprimanded  him  for  violating  his  oath  of  allegi- 
ance and  failing  in  his  duty  to  his  king.  Lafayette,  in 
some  of  his  letters  to  his  friends  about  court,  replied  to  this 
remark,  that  the  ministers  might  chide  him  with  failing  in 
his  duty  to  the  king,  when  they  learned  to  discharge  theirs 
to  the  people.  His  family  censured  him  for  his  desertion  of 
his  domestic  duties  ;  but  his  heroic  wife,  instead  of  joining 
in  the  reproach,  shared  his  enthusiasm,  and  encouraged  his 
enterprise.  He  was  obliged  to  return  with  the  officers  to 
Bordeaux,  and  report  himself  to  the  commandant.  While 
there,  and  engaged  in  communicating  with  his  family  and  the 
court,  in  explanation  and  defence  of  his  conduct,  he  learned 
from  a  friend  at  Paris  that  a  positive  prohibition  of  his 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  467 

departure  might  be  expected  from  the  king.  No  further  time 
was  to  be  lost,  and  no  middle  course  pursued.  He  feigned  a 
willingness  to  yield  to  the  wishes  of  his  family,  and  started 
as  for  Marseilles,  with  one  of  the  officers  who  was  to  accom- 
pany him  to  America.  Scarcely  had  they  left  the  city  of 
Bordeaux,  when  he  assumed  the  dress  of  a  courier,  mounted 
a  horse,  and  rode  forward  to  procure  relays.  They  soon 
quitted  the  road  to  Marseilles,  and  struck  into  that  which 
leads  to  Spain.  On  reaching  Bayonne,  they  were  detained 
two  or  three  hours.  While  the  companion  of  Lafayette 
was  employed  in  some  important  commission  in  the  city,  he 
himself  lay  on  the  straw  in  the  stable.  At  St  Jean  de  Luz 
he  was  recognized  by  the  daughter  of  the  person  who  kept, 
the  post-house ;  she  had  observed  him  a  few  days  before,  a? 
he  passed  from  Spain  to  Bordeaux.  Perceiving  that  he  wae 
discovered,  and  not  daring  to  speak  to  her,  he  made  her  a 
signal  to  keep  silence.  She  complied  with  the  intimation  ; 
and  when,  shortly  after  he  had  passed  on,  his  pursuers  came 
up,  she  gave  them  an  answer  which  baffled  their  penetration, 
and  enabled  Lafayette  to  escape  into  Spain.  He  was  in- 
stantly on  board  his  ship  and  at  sea,  with  eleven  officers  in 
his  train. 

It  would  take  me  beyond  the  limits  of  the  occasion  to 
repeat  the  various  casualties  and  exposures  of  his  passage, 
which  lasted  sixty  days.  His  vessel  had  cleared  for  the  West 
Indies ;  but  Lafayette  directed  the  captain  to  steer  for  the 
United  States,  which,  especially  as  he  had  a  large  pecuniary 
adventure  of  his  own  on  board,  he  declined  doing.  By  threats 
to  remove  him  from  his  command,  and  promises  to  indemnify 
him  for  the  loss  of  his  property,  should  they  be  captured,  La- 
fayette prevailed  upon  the  captain  to  steer  his  course  for  the 
American  coast,  where  at  last  they  happily  arrived,  having 
narrowly  escaped  two  British  vessels  of  war,  which  were 
cruising  in  that  quarter.  They  made  the  coast  near  George- 
town, South  Carolina.  It  was  late  in  the  day  before  they 
could  approach  so  near  land  as  to  leave  the  vessel.  Anx- 
ious to  tread  the  American  soil,  Lafayette,  with  some  of  his 
fellow-officers,  got  into  the  ship's  boat,  and  were  ro'ved  at 


468  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

nightfall  to  shore.  A  distant  light  guided  them  in  their  land- 
ing and  advance  into  the  country.  Arriving  near  the  house 
from  which  the  light  proceeded,  an  alarm  was  given  by  the 
watch-dogs,  and  they  were  mistaken  by  those  within  for  a 
marauding  party  from  the  enemy's  vessels,  hovering  on  the 
coast.  The  Baron  de  Kalb,  however,  had  a  good  knowledge 
of  the  English  language,  acquired  on  a  previous  visit  to 
America,  and  was  soon  able  to  make  known  who  they  were 
and  what  was  their  errand.  On  this,  they  were  of  course- 
readily  admitted,  and  cordially  welcomed.  The  house  in 
which  they  found  themselves  was  that  of  Major  Huger,  a 
citizen  of  worth,  hospitality,  and  patriotism,  by  whom  every 
good  office  was  performed  to  the  adventurous  strangers.  He 
provided  the  next  day  the  means  of  conveying  Lafayette 
and  his  companions  to  Charleston,  where  they  were  received 
with  enthusiasm  by  the  magistrates  and  the  people. 

As  soon  as  possible,  they  proceeded  by  land  to  Philadel- 
phia. On  his  arrival  there,  with  the  eagerness  of  a  youth 
anxious  to  be  employed  upon  his  errand,  he  sent  his  letters  to 
our  townsman,  Mr  Lovell,  chairman  of  the  committee  of 
foreign  relations.  He  called  the  next  day  at  the  hall  of  Con- 
gress, and  asked  to  see  this  gentleman.  Mr  Lovell  came  out 
to  him ;  stated  that  so  many  foreigners  offered  themselves  for 
employment  in  the  American  army  that  Congress  was  greatly 
embarrassed  to  find  them  commands ;  that  the  finances  of 
the  country  required  the  most  rigid  economy ;  and  that  he 
feared,  in  the  present  case,  there  was  little  hope  of  success. 
Lafayette  perceived  that  the  worthy  chairman  had  made  up 
his  report  without  looking  at  the  papers ;  he  explained  to 
him  that  his  application,  if  granted,  would  lay  no  burden 
upon  the  finances  of  Congress,  and  addressed  a  letter  to  the 
President,  in  which  he  expressed  a  wish  to  enter  the  Amer- 
ican army,  on  the  condition  of  serving  without  pay  or  emol- 
ument, and  on  the  footing  of  a  volunteer.  These  conditions 
removed  the  chief  obstacles  alluded  to,  in  reference  to  the 
appointment  of  foreign  officers ;  the  letters  brought  by  La- 
fayette made  known  to  Congress  his  high  connections,  and 
his  large  means  of  usefulness,  and  without  an  hour's  delay 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  469 

he  received  from  them  a  commission  of  major-general  in 
the  American  army,  a  month  before  he  was  twenty  years 
of  age. 

A  month  before  he  is  twenty  years  of  age  he  is  thought 
worthy  by  that  august  body,  the  revolutionary  Congress,  to 
be  placed  in  the  highest  rank  of  those  to  whom  the  conduct 
of  their  arms  was  intrusted  in  this  hour  of  their  extremes! 
peril.  What  a  commencement  of  life  !  None  of  the  golden 
hours  of  youth  wasted  on  its  worthless  but  tempting  vanities, 
—  none  of  those  precious  opportunities  are  lost  for  him, 
which,  once  lost,  neither  gold,  nor  tears,  nor  blood  can  buy 
back,  and  which,  for  the  mass  of  men,  are  lost,  irretrievably, 
and  forever !  None  of  the  joyous  days  of  youthful  vigor 
exhausted  even  in  the  praiseworthy  but  cheerless  vigils  with 
which,  in  the  present  artificial  state  of  society,  it  is  too  often 
the  lot  of  advancing  merit  to  work  its  way  toilsomely  up  the 
steeps  of  usefulness  and  fame  !  It  pleased  a  gracious  Provi- 
dence, in  disposing  the  strange  and  various  agency  by  which 
the  American  independence  was  to  be  established,  to  place  in 
the  company  of  its  defenders  a  youthful  champion  from  the 
highest  circle  of  the  gayest  court  of  Europe.  By  the  side 
of  Washington,  from  his  broad  plantations,  — of  Greene,  from 
his  forge,  —  of  Stark,  from  his  almost  pathless  forests  and 
granite  hills,  —  of  Putnam,  from  his  humble  farm,  there  is  a 
place,  at  the  war  council  of  the  revolution,  for  a  young  noble- 
man from  France.  He  is  raised  at  once  above  the  feverish 
appetite  for  advancement,  —  the  pest  of  affairs,  —  for  he  is 
born  to  the  highest  station  society  can  bestow.  He  comes 
from  the  bosom  of  the  domestic  endearments,  with  which  he 
has  surrounded  himself,  before  any  of  the  accursed  poisons 
of  pleasure  have  been  poured  into  his  heart ;  and  youth  as 
he  is-,  he  brings  the  chaste  and  manly  virtues  of  the  husband 
and  the  father  to  the  virtuous  cause  which  he  has  embraced. 
The  possessor  of  an  immense  estate,  he  is  beyond  the  reach 
of  mercenary  motives,  and  is  enabled  even  to  confer  favors 
on  the  Congress  whose  confidence  he  receives. 

But  though  his  enterprise  is  one  which  requires,  for  its  very 
conception,  a  rare  enthusiasm,  —  although,  considering  his 


470  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

position  at  home,  he  must  be  all  but  a  madman  to  persevere 
in  such  an  adventure,  —  yet  the  nature  of  the  cause  to  which 
he  consecrates  himself,  and  of  the  duties  which  he  under- 
takes to  perform,  implies  a  gravity  of  character,  and  sound 
judgment,  belonging  to  mature  years  and  long  experience  ; 
and  that  gravity  and  good  judgment,  young  and  inexperi- 
enced as  he  is,  he  possesses  in  an  eminent  degree.  To  suc- 
ceed in  the  undertaking,  he  seems  to  need  qualities  of  char- 
acter not  merely  different  from  those  which  alone  could 
prompt  him  to  embark  in  it ;  but  he  must  have  the  opposite 
and  contradictory  qualities.  He  must  be  cool,  prudent,  and 
considerate,  at  the  very  moment  that  he  enters  a  career,  from 
which  every  cool,  prudent,  and  considerate  man  would  have 
dissuaded  him ;  and  arduous  as  it  is,  he  enters  it,  without 
preparation  or  training. 

But  let  him  enter  it,  the  noble  and  fortunate  youth ;  let  him 
enter  it,  without  preparation  or  training !  Great  as  the  work 
is,  and  completely  as  he  is  to  succeed  in  it,  it  is  itself  but  a 
work  of  preparation.  This  is  not  yet  the  province  of  duty 
assigned  him.  He  comes  without  training,  for  this  is  the 
school  in  which  he  is  to  be  trained.  He  comes  unprepared, 
because  he  comes  to  a  great  preparation  of  liberty.  Destined, 
when,  with  full  success  and  spotless  honor,  he  shall  have  gone 
through  the  American  revolution,  to  take  the  lead  in  a 
mighty  work  of  political  reform  in  his  native  land,  —  he 
comes,  in  his  youth,  to  the  great  monitorial  school  of  Free- 
dom ;  to  imbibe  its  holy  doctrines  from  an  authentic  source, 
before  his  heart  is  hardened  and  his  mind  perverted  :  to  catch 
its  pure  spirit,  living  and  uncorrupted,  from  the  lips  of  a  pure 
master. 

Before  that  master  he  is  yet  to  appear.  The  youthful  ad- 
venturer has  a  test  of  character  at  hand  more  severe  than  any 
to  which  he  has  yet  been  subjected.  He  has  stood  from  his 
youth  before  princes  and  kings,  and  felt  that  his  clay  is  as 
good  as  theirs.  But  he  has  yet  to  stand  before  that  face, 
where,  more  than  ever  yet  in  the  face  of  mere  man  the  awful 
majesty  of  virtue  abode,  in  visible  personation ;  the  serene 
but  melancholy  countenance  which  now  looks  down  'ipon  us 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  471 

from  that  canvas,  which  no  smile  of  light-hearted  gladness 
illuminated,  from  the  commencement  to  the  close  of  his 
country's  struggle.  Washington  was  at  head-quarters  when 
Lafayette  reached  Philadelphia,  but  he  was  daily  expected 
in  the  city.  The  introduction  of  the  youthful  stranger  to 
the  man  on  whom  his  career  depended,  was  therefore  delayed 
a  few  days.  It  took  place,  in  a  manner  peculiarly  marked 
with  the  circumspection  of  Washington,  at  a  dinner  party, 
where  Lafayette  was  one  among  several  guests  of  consideration. 
Washington  was  not  uninformed  of  the  circumstances  con- 
nected with  his  arrival  in  the  country.  He  knew  what  ben- 
efits it  promised  the  cause,  if  his  character  and  talents  were 
adapted  to  the  course  he  had  so  boldly  struck  out ;  and  he 
knew,  also,  how  much  it  was  to  be  feared,  that  the  very  qual- 
ities which  had  prompted  him  to  embark  in  it,  would  make 
him  a  useless  and  even  a  dangerous  auxiliary.  We  may. well 
suppose  that  the  piercing  eye  of  the  Father  of  his  Country 
was  not  idle  during  the  repast.  But  that  searching  glance, 
before  which  pretence  or  fraud  never  stood  undetected,  was 
completely  satisfied.  When  they  were  about  to  separate, 
Washington  took  Lafayette  aside,  spoke  to  him  with  kind- 
ness, paid  a  just  tribute  to  the  noble  spirit  which  he  had 
shown,  and  the  sacrifices  he  had  made  in  the  American  cause ; 
invited  him  to  make  the  head-quarters  of  the  army  his  home, 
and  to  regard  himself,  at  all  times,  as  one  of  the  family  of  the 
commander-in-chief. 

Such  was  the  reception  given  to  Lafayette  by  the  most 
sagacious  and  observant  of  men ;  and  the  personal  acquaint- 
ance thus  commenced  ripened  into  an  intimacy,  a  confi- 
dence, and  an  affection  without  bounds,  and  never  for  one 
moment  interrupted.  If  there  lived  a  man  whom  Washing- 
ton loved,  it  was  Lafayette.  The  proofs  of  this  are  not 
wanted  by  those  who  have  read  the  history  of  the  revolution  ; 
but  the  private  correspondence  of  these  two  great  men,  hith- 
erto unpublished,  discloses  the  full  extent  of  the  mutual 
regard  and  affection  which  united  them.  It  not  only  shows 
that  Washington  entertained  the  highest  opinion  of  the  mil- 
itary talent,  the  personal  probity,  and  the  general  prudence 


472  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

and  energy  of  Lafayette,  but  that  he  regarded  him  with 
the  tenderness  of  a  father ;  and  found  in  the  affection  which 
Lafayette  bore  to  him,  in  return,  one  of  the  greatest  com- 
forts and  blessings  of  his  own  life.  Whenever  the  corre- 
spondence of  Washington  and  Lafayette  shall  be  published, 
the  publication  will  do  what  perhaps  nothing  else  can  — 
raise  them  both  in  the  esteem  and  admiration  of  mankind. 

On  the  thirty-first  of  July,  1777,  Lafayette  received,  by  a 
resolution  of  Congress,  his  commission  as  a  major-general  in  tho 
American  army.  Not  having  at  first  a  separate  command,  he 
attached  himself  to  the  army  of  the  commander-in-chief,  as 
a  volunteer.  On  the  eleventh  of  the  following  September, 
he  was  present  at  the  unfortunate  battle  of  Brandywine.  He 
there  plunged,  with  a  rashness  pardonable  in  a  very  youthful 
commander,  into  the  hottest  of  the  battle,  exposed  himself 
to  all  its  dangers,  and  exhibited  a  conspicuous  example  of 
coolness  and  courage.  When  the  troops  began  to  retreat  in 
disorder,  he  threw  himself  from  his  horse,  entered  the  ranks, 
and  endeavored  to  rally  them.  While  thus  employed,  he  was 
shot  by  a  musket-ball  through  the  leg.  The  wound  was  not 
perceived  by  himself,  till  he  was  told  by  his  aid  that  the 
blood  was  running  from  his  boot.  He  fell  in  with  a  surgeon, 
who  placed  a  slight  bandage  on  his  limb,  with  which  he  rode 
to  Chester.  Regardless  of  his  situation,  he  thought  only  of 
rallying  the  troops,  who  were  retreating  in  disorder  through 
the  village ;  and  it  was  not  till  this  duty  was  performed,  that 
the  wound  was  dressed.  It  was  two  months  before  it  was 
sufficiently  healed  to  enable  him  to  rejoin  the  army.  This 
was  the  first  battle  in  which  he  was  ever  engaged,  and  such 
was  his  entrance  into  the  active  service  of  America. 

It  would  obviously  be  impossible  to  do  more  than  glance 
at  the  military  services  of  Lafayette  during  the  revolution- 
ary war ;  but  it  seems  to  belong  to  a  proper  treatment  of  the 
subject,  that  they  should  not  be  wholly  omitted. 

In  the  winter  of  1778,  he  was  designated  to  the  command 
of  an  expedition  into  Canada  —  a  project  formed  without  con- 
sulting Washington,  by  the  members  of  Congress  and  the 
cabal  in  the  army  opposed  to  the  commander-in-chief.  La- 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  473 

fayette  was  placed  at  the  head  of  it,  partly,  no  doubt,  with  a 
view  of  detaching  him  from  the  support,  and  thereby  impair- 
ing the  influence,  of  Washington.  But  his  veneration  for 
Washington,  his  good  feeling,  his  sound  military  judgment, 
and,  above  all,  his  correct  perception  of  the  character  of  the 
great  man  aimed  at,  enabled  him  to  escape  the  snare.  On 
repairing  to  Albany,  he  found  no  preparations  made  to  cany 
the  expedition  into  effect.  He  perceived  its  impracticability, 
and  it  was  abandoned.  His  retreat  at  Barren  Hill  from  a  very 
critical  and  dangerous  situation,  into  which  he  was  thrown 
by  the  abandonment  of  their  post  on  the  part  of  a  detach- 
ment of  militia  stationed  to  protect  his  position,  received  the 
highest  commendations  of  Washington.  On  General  Lee's 
declining  the  command  of  the  advance  of  the  army  at  Mon- 
mouth,  it  was  given  to  Lafayette.  Lee,  perceiving  the  im- 
portance of  the  command,  and  the  unfavorable  appearance 
which  his  waiver  of  it  might  wear,  prevailed  with  great  dif- 
ficulty on  Lafayette,  the  day  before  the  battle,  to  allow  him 
to  assume  it.  The  conduct  of  Lafayette  on  that  important 
day  was  marked  with  bravery  and  skill.  On  the  very  day 
that  the  British  effected  their  entrance  into  New  York,  the 
French  fleet,  under  the  Count  d'Estaing,  appeared  in  the 
American  waters.  Rhode  Island  having  been  fixed  upon  as 
the  theatre  of  operations,  Lafayette  was  detached  with  two 
brigades,  to  join  the  army  under  General  Sullivan.  During 
all  the  perilous  incidents  of  this  critical  and  unsuccessful 
campaign,  the  most  important  services  were  rendered  by  La- 
fayette. He  exerted  the  happiest  influence  in  restoring  har- 
mony between  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  French  and 
American  armies,  which  had  been  seriously  interrupted,  in 
consequence  of  the  unfortunate  issue  of  the  expedition. 
This  was  of  infinite  importance  to  the  cause,  as  a  permanent 
disgust  on  the  part  of  the  French  troops,  in  this  the  first  ex- 
pedition sent  out  in  virtue  of  the  alliance,  might  have  effec- 
tually damped  the  further  efforts  of  France.  His  services 
on  the  occasion  were  acknowledged  by  express  resolutions 
of  Congress. 

France  being  now  in  a  state  of  declared  hostility  against 
VOL  i.  60 


474  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

England,  and  Lafayette  being  still  an  officer  in  the  French 
army,  he  deemed  it  his  duty,  at  the  close  of  the  campaign, 
to  return  to  his  native  country,  and  place  himself  at  the  dis- 
posal of  his  government. 

He  united  with  this  object  that  of  exerting  his  influence 
in  favor  of  America,  by  his  personal  conferences  with  the 
French  ministry.  He  accordingly  applied  to  Congress  for  a 
furlough,  which,  on  the  particular  recommendation  of  Gen- 
eral Washington,  was  granted.  This  permission  was  accom- 
panied by  resolutions  expressing,  in  flattering  terms,  the  sense 
which  was  entertained  by  Congress,  of  the  importance  of  his 
services,  and  by  a  letter  recommending  him  to  the  good  of- 
fices of  the  American  minister  in  France.  At  the  same  time 
also,  Congress  ordered  that  a  sword  should  be  presented  to 
him,  adorned  with  emblematic  devices,  appropriate  to  its 
object. 

Lafayette  embarked  for  France  at  Boston,  in  January, 
1779,  on  board  an  American  frigate.  Just  before  arriving  on 
the  coasts  of  France,  he  happily  discovered  and  assisted  in 
subduing  a  mutiny  on  the  part  of  some  British  prisoners  of 
war,  whom  he  had  been  induced  to  admit  as  a  portion  of  the 
crew  of  the  frigate,  from  his  aversion  to  impressment,  which 
must  otherwise  have  been  resorted  to,  in  order  to  make  up 
the  ship's  complement  of  men.  He  was  now  twenty-two 
years  of  age,  and  returned,  after  two  years  of  absence, 
marked  with  honorable  scars,  and  signalized  by  the  thanks 
of -Congress,  the  admiration  of  America,  and  the  friendship 
of  Washington.  He  was  received  with  enthusiasm  by  the 
people,  and  even  at  court.  As  he  had  left  the  country  in  dis- 
obedience to  a  royal  mandate,  etiquette  demanded  that  he 
should  for  a  few  days  be  required  to  keep  his  house,  and  to 
see  no  persons  but  the  members  of  his  family.  This,  how- 
ever, embraced  within  its  circle  nearly  every  person  of  dis- 
tinction about  the  court.  His  name  had  already  been  intro- 
duced into  several  dramatic  performances,  and  hailed  with 
acclamations  in  the  theatres ;  and  a  beautiful  apostrophe 
to  him,  in  one  of  these  performances,  was  copied  by  the 
queen,  and  long  preserved  in  her  handwriting,  by  her  confi- 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  475 

dential  attendant,  Madame  Campan.  On  a  journey  to  one  of 
his  estates  in  the  south  of  France,  the  whole  population  came 
out  to  meet  him,  and  the  fetes  of  the  city  of  Orleans,  in 
honor  of  his  return,  were  prolonged  for  a  week. 

The  entire  effect  of  the  enthusiasm  of  which  he  was  thus 
the  object,  was  turned  by  Lafayette  to  the  advantage  of 
America.  He  was  the  confidential  adviser  of  Dr  Franklin  ; 
he  was  in  constant  correspondence  with  Washington ;  and 
he  was  sure  to  be  approached  by  every  American  arriving  in 
France,  and  by  every  European  repairing  to  America.  A 
major-general  in  her  armies,  he  was  clothed  with  an  official 
right  to  interfere  in  her  cause ;  and  his  country  being  now  at 
war  with  England,  no  reasons  of  state  interposed  to  check 
his  activity.  He  was,  as  a  French  officer,  attached  to  the 
staff  of  the  Marshal  Vaux,  at  that  time  commander-in-chief 
of  the  French  army.  In  this  capacity,  having  direct  access 
to  the  court,  the  personal  and  warmly-devoted  friend  of  the 
Count  de  Vergennes,  and  the  popular  favorite,  he  did  for 
America  what  no  other  man  could  have  done,  and  rendered 
services  to  the  cause  not  yet  sufficiently  appreciated,  and 
worthy  a  moment's  reflection. 

The  alliance  with  France  was  the  great  turning-point  in 
the  fortunes  of  the  revolution.  I  do  not  of  course  say,  that 
without  it  our  independence  could  not  have  been  established. 
Had  this  failed,  other  means  would,  no  doubt,  in  some  wholly 
different  train  of  affairs,  have  been  disclosed.  I  would  not 
say  of  any  thing,  not  even  of  the  character  of  Washington, 
that  without  it,  the  country  could  not  have  been  carried 
through  the  war.  But,  in  looking  back  upon  the  history  of 
the  times,  I  cannot  now  perceive  that  in  the  series  of  events 
by  which  the  independence  of  the  United  States  was  achieved, 
the  alliance  with  France  could  have  been  dispensed  with. 
Her  recognition  of  our  independence  inspirited  our  own 
councils  and  disheartened  England.  The  loans  of  money 
and  military  supplies  derived  from  France,  were  a  vital  re- 
source, for  which  I  know  not  what  substitute  could  have  been 
found  ;  and  finally,  the  cooperation  of  her  fleets  and  armies, 
involving,  as  it  did  eventually,  that  of  the  Spanish  forces 


476  EULOGY    ON    LA.FAYETTE. 

brought  down  upon  the  British  ministry  a  burden  which  they 
could  not  bear,  and  compelled  them  to  abandon  the  struggle. 
At  the  same  time,  the  greatest  difficulties  opposed  them- 
selves to  the  practical  development  of  the  benefits  of  the 
treaty  of  alliance.  In  the  first  place,  it  required  of  an  old 
European  monarchy  to  countenance  a  colonial  revolt.  France 
had  colonies.  Spain,  the  kindred  sovereignty,  had  a  colonial 
world  in  America,  where  the  formidable  and  all  but  successful 
revolt  of  Tupac- Amaru  was  already  in  secret  preparation.  It 
was  the  last  moment  which  France  or  Spain  would  have 
voluntarily  chosen,  to  sanction  an  example  of  transatlantic 
independence.  The  finances  of  France  were  any  thing  but 
prosperous,  and  she  had  to  support,  unaided,  the  expense  of 
the  fleets  and  armies  which  she  sent  to  our  assistance.  Great 
difficulties,  it  was  supposed,  would  attend  the  cooperation  of 
a  French  army  with  American  forces  on  land.  Congress  was 
jealous  of  the  introduction  of  a  foreign  soldiery  into  the 
interior  of  the  country,  and  Washington  himself  gave  but  a 
reluctant  consent  to  the  measure.  Considerable  discontent 
had  arisen  in  connection  with  Count  d'Estaing's  movements 
in  Rhode  Island,  which,  had  it  not  been  allayed  by  the  pru- 
dent and  effectual  mediation  of  Lafayette,  would,  as  has 
been  already  stated,  probably  have  prevented  a  French  army 
from  being  sent  over  to  the  United  States.  Such  were  the 
feelings  on  both  sides  of  the  ocean,  when  Lafayette  went 
back  to  France,  in  1779;  and  during  the  whole  of  that  year, 
he  exerted  himself  unceasingly,  in  his  correspondence  and 
conferences  with  the  French  ministry,  to  induce  them  to  send 
out  an  army.  The  difficulties  to  be  overcome  were  all  but 
insurmountable,  acting,  as  he  was,  not  only  without  the 
instructions,  but  against  the  sense  of  Congress,  and  scarcely 
sanctioned  by  Washington.  He,  however,  knew  that  success 
would  attend  the  measure.  He  had  that  interior  conviction, 
which  no  argument  or  authority  can  subdue,  that  the  proposed 
expedition  was  practicable  and  expedient,  and  he  succeeded 
in  imparting  his  enthusiasm  to  the  ministers.  He  knew  that 
the  anticipated  difficulties  could  be  overcome.  He  had 
proved,  in  his  own  experience,  that  cooperation  was  practica- 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE  477 

ble.  Military  subordination  made  it  impossible  to  put  him,  a 
young  man  of  twenty-two,  holding  in  the  king's  army  only 
the  commission  of  a  subaltern,  in  the  command  of  a  large 
force ;  but  he  relied,  with  a  just  confidence,  on  the  services 
which  his  standing  in  America,  and  his  possession  of  the  con- 
fidence of  Washington,  would  enable  him  to  render.  He 
accordingly  pursued  the  object  with  an  ardor,  an  industry, 
and  an  adroitness,  which  nothing  could  surpass.  When  his 
correspondence  with  the  French  ministers,  particularly  the 
Count  de  Vergennes,  shall  be  published,  it  will  appear  that  it 
was  mainly  the  personal  efforts  and  personal  influence  of  La- 
fayette—  idol  of  the  French  people  as  he  had  made  him- 
self—  which  caused  the  army  of  Rochambeau  to  be  sent  to 
America.  It  was  pleasantly  remarked  by  the  old  Count  de 
Maurepas,  who,  at  the  age  of  seventy-nine,  still  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  French  ministry,  that  "  it  was  fortunate  for  the 
king,  that  Lafayette  did  not  take  it  into  his  head  to  strip 
Versailles  of  its  furniture  to  send  to  his  dear  Americans, 
as  his  majesty  would  have  been  unable  to  refuse  it."  In 
addition  to  his  efforts  to  obtain  the  army  of  Rochambeau, 
Lafayette  was  actively  employed,  during  the  year  1779,  in 
conjunction  with  our  ministers,  in  procuring  a  large  pecuniary 
subsidy  for  the  United  States. 

Having  thus  contributed  to  the  accomplishment  of  these 
great  objects,  he  returned  to  America  in  the  spring  of  1780. 
He  landed  at  Boston,  where,  though  nothing  was  as  yet 
known  of  the  all-important  services  he  had  rendered  to  the 
country,  he  was  received  with  every  mark  of  attachment 
and  admiration.  He  immediately  repaired  to  the  head-quar- 
ters of  the  army ;  but  soon  left  them  to  arrange  with  Count 
Rochambeau  the  interview  between  him  and  the  commander- 
in-chief,  in  which  the  future  operations  of  the  campaign  were 
concerted,  at  which  also  he  was  present.  He  was  at  West 
Point  at  the  period  of  the  ever-memorable  scene  of  the 
treachery  of  Arnold.  The  following  winter  he  marched  at 
the  head  of  his  division  to  Portsmouth,  in  Virginia,  to  coop- 
erate in  an  attack  on  the  British  forces,  by  the  combined 
French  and  American  troops.  This  plan  failed,  in  conse- 


478  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

quence  of  the  reverses  experienced  by  the  French  squadron 
under  Destouches.  On  his  march  backward  to  the  north,  La- 
fayette received  a  courier  from  Washington,  informing  him 
of  the  concentration  of  the  troops  under  Lord  Cornwallis, 
Phillips,  and  Arnold,  in  Virginia,  and  directing  him  to  watch 
their  movements,  and  prevent  this  great  state,  whose  fortunes 
involved  that  of  the  whole  southern  country,  from  falling 
into  their  hands.  This  order  found  him  at  the  head  of  Elk, 
in  Maryland.  He  instantly  put  in  train  the  requisite  meas- 
ures of  preparation.  His  scanty  force  was  in  a  state  of  per- 
fect destitution.  In  all  his  army,  there  was  not  a  pair  of 
shoes  fit  for  service.  But  the  love  and  confidence  which  the 
country  bore  him,  supplied  the  place  of  credit ;  and  he  was 
able,  in  his  own  name,  to  raise  a  loan  in  Baltimore,  sufficient 
to  supply  the  most  urgent  wants  of  his  little  command.  Thus 
furnished,  he  hastened  into  Virginia,  and  during  the  whole 
summer  of  1781,  he  conducted  the  campaign  with  a  vigor, 
discretion,  and  success,  which  saved  the  state  of  Virginia, 
and  proved  himself  to  be  endowed  with  the  highest  qualities 
of  generalship.  While"  Lord  Cornwallis,  to  whom  he  was 
opposed,  —  a  person  not  less  eminent  for  talent  and  experi- 
ence, than  for  rank  and  political  influence,  —  was  boasting,  in 
derision  of  his  youthful  adversary,  that  "  the  boy  should  not 
escape  him,"  the  boy  was  preparing  a  pit,  into  which  the 
veteran  plunged,  with  all  his  forces. 

My  limits  do  not  allow  me  to  sketch  the  history  of  this 
great  campaign,  nor  even  its  final  glorious  consummation,  the 
closing  scene  of  the  war.  But  I  may  with  propriety  pause 
to  say,  that  it  evinced  on  the  part  of  our  venerable  Washing- 
ton, now  at  length  favored  with  an  opportunity  of  acting 
with  ample  means  on  a  broad  scale,  a  power  of  combination 
and  a  reach  of  mind,  with  a  promptitude  and  vigor  of  exe- 
cution, which,  exhibited  at  the  head  of  mighty  armies,  gave 
to  Napoleon  his  reputation  as  the  greatest  captain  of  the  age. 
I  cannot  but  think,  that  in  the  manreuvres  by  which  Lord 
Cornwallis  was  detained  in  Virginia  ;  by  which  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  was  persuaded,  in  New  York,  that  a  siege  of  that 
city  was  the  great  object  of  Washington;  by  ivhich  the 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  479 

French  forces  were  brought  up  from  Rhode  Island ;  the 
armies  of  Washington  and  Rochambeau  moved,  by  a  forced 
march,  across  the  country  to  Yorktovvn,  at  the  moment  that 
the  French  squadron  from  Newport,  under  the  Count  de  Bar- 
ras,  and  the  great  fleet  under  the  Count  de  Grasse,  effected 
their  junction  in  the  Chesapeake, — there  is  displayed  as 
much  generalship,  as  in  any  series  of  movements  in  the  wars 
of  the  last  thirty  years.  The  operations  of  Lafayette  in  Vir- 
ginia, in  the  preceding  summer,  were  the  basis  of  them  all  ; 
as  his  untiring  efforts  in  France  the  preceding  season  had 
mainly  occasioned  the  despatch  of  the  army  of  Count  Ro- 
chambeau, without  which  the  great  exploit  at  Yorktown 
could  not  have  been  achieved. 

And  who,  that  has  a  sense  for  all  that  is  beautiful  in  mili- 
tary display,  grand  and  eventful  in  political  combinations,  and 
auspicious  to  the  cause  of  liberty,  but  must  linger  a  moment 
on  the  plain  of  Yorktown  !  Before  you  stretches  the  broad 
expanse  of  York  River,  an  arm  of  Chesapeake  Bay.  Beyond 
it,  to  the  north,  the  British  general  has  left  a  force  at  Glouces- 
ter Point  for  his  support,  should  he  be  compelled  to  retreat 
across  the  river  :  and  there  the  Duke  de  Lauzun,  his  legion 
being  united  with  the  Virginia  militia,  effectually  encloses  the 
hostile  force  within  their  lines.  The  intervening  expanse  of 
water  is  covered  with  the  British  vessels  of  war.  But  it  is 
around  the  lines  of  Yorktown  that  the  interest  of  the  scene 
is  concentrated.  Above  the  town  are  stationed  the  French  ; 
below,  the  Americans  ;  —  the  royal  regiments  of  Deux  Fonts, 
of  Touraine,  and  Saintonge,  on  the  one  side  ;  and  the  troops 
of  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia,  of  New  Jersey  and  New  Eng- 
land, on  the  other.  The  Marquis  de  St  Simon  commanded 
on  the  extreme  left,  and  General  Lincoln  on  the  extreme 
right.  Before  the  former,  we  behold  the  position  of  the  two 
Viomenils  ;  and,  near  the  latter,  the  post  of  Lafayette.  At 
the  point  of  junction  between  the  two  lines,  the  head-quarters 
of  Count  Rochambeau  and  those  of  Washington  are  placed, 
in  harmony  of  council  and  of  action,  side  by  side.  Two 
redoubts  are  to  be  carried.  To  excite  the  generous  emulation 
of  the  combined  forces,  one  is  committed  to  the  French,  and 


480  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

the  other  to  the  Americans.  Lafayette,  with  Hamilton  at 
his  side,  commands  the  latter,  and  both  redoubts  are  carried 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  Cornwallis  attempts,  but  without 
success,  to  escape.  He  is  reduced,  after  a  siege  of  thirteen 
flays,  to  enter  into  capitulation  ;  and  the  last  British  army  of 
the  revolutionary  war  surrenders  to  the  united  forces  of  Amer- 
ica and  France. 

At  the  close  of  the  campaign,  to  the  successful  issue  of 
which  he  had  so  essentially  contributed,  Lafayette  again 
asked  the  permission  of  Congress  to  return  to  France.  Well 
might  they  permit  him  ;  for  he  went  to  rouse  France  and 
Spain,  with  all  their  fleets,  armies,  and  treasures,  to  strike  a 
last  and  an  overwhelming  blow.  A  committee  of  Congress, 
of  which  Charles  Carroll  was  chairman,  and  James  Madison 
was  a  member,  reported  a  series  of  resolutions  of  the  most 
honorable  character,  which  were  adopted  by  that  body.  They 
directed  all  the  ministers  of  the  United  States  in  Europe  to 
confer  and  correspond  with  Lafayette  ;  they  invited  him  to 
correspond  with  Congress ;  and  they  recommended  him,  in 
the  most  affectionate  terms,  to  the  especial  favor  of  his 
sovereign. 

He  returned  to  his  native  country  with  these  new  laurels 
and  new  titles  to  admiration,  and  France  rose  up  as  one  man 
to  receive  him.  His  welcome,  before  enthusiastic,  was  now 
rapturous  :  it  was  prompted  before  by  admiration  of  a  chival- 
rous adventure  ;  but  the  national  pride  and  patriotic  spirit  of 
Frenchmen  were  now  aroused.  The  heavy  reproach  of  the 
Seven  Years'  war  was  rolled  away,  and  the  stains  of  Quebec 
washed  white  at  Yorktown.  The  government,  as  well  as  the 
people  of  France,  was  elated  at  the  success  of  the  campaign  ; 
all  doubts  as  to  the  possibility  of  a  combined  action  were 
removed ;  and  to  Lafayette,  as  the  prime  mover  of  the 
enterprise,  proportionate  credit  was  justly  given  for  his  fore- 
sight and  sagacity.  He  could  now  ask  for  nothing  that  was 
deemed  extravagant ;  or,  however  extravagant,  he  could  ask 
for  nothing  which  could  be  refused.  The  enthusiasm  caught 
from  France  to  Spain.  The  Castilian  coldness  was  melted  ; 
and  although  the  mountains  of  Peru  were  bristling  with  the 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  481 

bayonets  of  the  last  of  the  Incas,  King  Charles  HI.  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  of  humbling  Great  Britain ;  and  resolved, 
at  last,  that  Spain  and  the  Indies  should  go,  with  all  their 
resources,  for  the  Congress.  A  mighty  plan  of  campaign  was 
resolved  on.  An  expedition,  such  as  Europe  has  rarely  wit- 
nessed, was  projected.  The  old  armada  seemed  almost  to 
rise  from  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  in  mightily  augmented 
array,  to  avenge  the  ancient  disasters  of  Spain. 

The  preparations  commenced  at  Cadiz.  Count  d'Estaing, 
as  generalissimo,  with  sixty  vessels  of  the  line,  and  smaller 
ships  in  proportion,  and  with  twenty-four  thousand  troops, 
was  to  make  a  descent  on  Jamaica,  and  thence  strike  at  New 
York.  Lafayette  was  the  first  at  the  rendezvous  :  he  had 
already  proceeded  with  eight  thousand  men  from  Brest  tc- 
Cadiz.  He  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  staff  of  the  com- 
bined armies  ;  and,  after  New  York  had  fallen,  was  to  have 
moved  with  his  division  into  Canada.  But  these  magnificent 
and  formidable  preparations  effected  their  object  at  a  cheaper 
cost  than  that  of  rivers  of  blood.  The  British  government 
learned  wisdom  before  it  was  too  late,  and  the  peace  was 
concluded.  It  was  the  wish  of  Lafayette  to  bear  in  person 
the  joyous  tidings  to  America.  Just  as  he  was  about  step- 
ping on  board  a  frigate  for  that  purpose,  he  returned  to  Madrid, 
to  render  an  important  service  to  our  minister  there.  But  his 
despatches  were  sent  by  the  frigate,  and  conveyed  to  Congress 
the  first  intelligence  of  the  peace. 

In  the  course  of  the  following  year,  he  yielded  to  the  invi- 
tation of  Washington  and  his  other  friends,  and  revisited 
America.  He  was  received  with  acclamations  of  joy  and 
gratitude  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other  ;  but 
nowhere  with  a  more  cordial  welcome  than  in  this  ancient 
metropolis.  On  the  nineteenth  of  October,  1784,  in  the  hall 
in  which  we  are  now  assembled  to  pay  the  last  tribute  to  his 
memory,  surrounded  by  his  fellow-soldiers,  by  the  authorities 
of  the  commonwealth,  the  magistracy  of  the  town,  and  the 
grateful  and  admiring  citizens  of  Boston,  he  celebrated  the 
third  anniversary  of  the  capture  of  Cornwallis,  in  which  he 
VOL.  i.  61  ' 


482  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

had  himself  so  efficiently  cooperated.  Fifty  years  have  passed 
away.  The  pillars  of  this  venerable  hall,  then  twined  with 
garlands,  are  hung  with  mourning.  The  cypress  has  taken 
the  place  of  the  rose-bud ;  the  songs  of  patriotic  rejoicing  are 
hushed,  and  the  funeral  anthem  is  heard  in  their  stead  ;  but 
the  memory  of  the  beloved  champion,  the  friend  of  America 
and  of  freedom,  shall  bloom  in  eternal  remembrance.* 

The  year  after  his  return  to  France,  Lafayette  made  a  tour 
in  Germany.  He  was  received  throughout  that  country  with 
the  attention  due  to  his  rank  arid  the  eclat  of  his  services  in 
America.  At  Vienna,  he  met  the  Duke  of  York  at  the  table 
of  the  Emperor  Joseph,  and  employed  the  opportunities  which 
such  an  interview  afforded  him  to  inculcate  the  policy  of  a 
liberal  course  on  the  part  of  the  powers  of  Europe,  and  par- 
ticularly Great  Britain,  towards  the  rising  states  of  America. 
He  was  received  with  distinction  by  Frederic  the  Great,  and 
accompanied  him  on  a  tour  of  inspection  and  review  of  his 
armies.  On  this  occasion,  he  became  acquainted  with  the 
flying  artillery  which  Frederic  had  just  organized,  and  formed 
the  purpose  of  introducing  it  into  the  service  of  France,  on 
the  first  opportunity  —  an  intention  which  he  carried  into 
effect,  when,  at  the  commencement  of  the  French  revolution, 
he  was  placed  at  the  head  of  an  army. 

On  his  return  to  Paris,  he  united  with  M.  de  Malesherbes 
in  endeavoring  to  ameliorate  the  political  condition  of  the 
Protestants.  In  concert  with  the  minister  of  the  marine,  the 
Marshal  de  Castries,  he  expended  a  large  sum  from  his  private 
fortune,  in  an  experiment  towards  the  education  and  eventual 
emancipation  of  slaves.  To  this  end,  he  purchased  a  planta- 
tion in  Cayenne,  intending  to  give  freedom  to  the  laborers,  as 
soon  as  they  should  be  in  a  condition  to  enjoy  it  without 
abuse.  In  the  progress  of  the  revolution,  this  plantation, 
with  the  other  estates  of  Lafayette,  was  confiscated,  and  the 

*  The  incidents  of  Lafayette's  visit  to  America  in  1784  are  succinctly 
related  in  the  "  Letters  of  an  American  Farmer."  The  narrative  is  highly 
interesting,  and  but  for  the  more  recent  and  still  more  extraordinary  events 
of  1824,  would  well  merit  a  more  detailed  reference. 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  483 

slaves  sold  back  to  perpetual  bondage,  by  the  faction  which 
was  drenching  France  in  blood,  under  the  motto  of  liberty 
and  equality. 

On  the  breaking  out  of  the  troubles  in  Holland,  in  1787, 
the  patriotic  party  made  overtures  to  Lafayette  to  place  him- 
self at  the  head  of  a  popular  government  in  that  quarter ;  but 
the  progress  of  the  revolution  was  arrested  by  the  invasion 
of  Prussia,  and  the  policy  of  England  and  France.  Besides 
this,  greater  events  were  preparing  at  home. 

As  far  as  the  United  States  were  concerned,  during  all 
the  period  which  intervened  from  the  peace  of  1783  to 
the  organization  of  the  federal  government,  Lafayette  per- 
formed, in  substance,  the  functions  of  their  minister.  He 
was  engaged  with  indefatigable  industry,  and  a  zeal  that 
knew  no  bounds,  in  promoting  the  interests  of  America  at 
the  courts  of  France  and  Spain.  The  published  works  of 
Mr  Jefferson,  and  the  diplomatic  correspondence  of  our 
foreign  ministers  during  this  period,  abundantly  show  that 
not  one  of  the  accredited  ministers  of  the  United  States 
abroad,  able  and  faithful  as  they  were,  was  more  assiduously 
devoted  to  the  service  of  the  country  and  the  promotion  of 
its  political  and  commercial  interests  than  Lafayette.  New 
and  most  convincing  proofs  of  this  have  recently  come  before 
the  public.* 

At  length  the  mighty  crisis  came  on.  The  French  revo- 
lution draws  near,  —  that  stupendous  event  of  which  it  is 
impossible  to  be  silent,  —  next  to  impossible  to  speak.  Louis 
XV.  once  said  to  a  courtier.  "  This  French  monarchy  is 
fourteen  hundred  years  old  ;  it  cannot  last  long."  Such  was 
the  terrific  sentiment  which,  even  in  the  bosom  of  his  base 
pleasures,  stole  into  the  conscience  of  the  modern  Sardana- 
palus.  But  in  that  mysterious  and  bewildering  chain  of  con- 
nection which  binds  together  the  fortunes  of  states  and  of 
men,  the  last  convulsive  effort  of  this  worn-out  and  decrepit 

*  In  the  two  collections  published  under  the  authority  of  Congress,  — 
the  Diplomatic  Correspondence  of  the  Revolution  ;  and  its  Continuation 
from  the  Peace  of  1783  to  1789. 


484  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE 

monarchy,  in  which  the  spasmodic  remains  of  her  strength 
were  exhausted,  and  her  crazy  finances  plunged  into  irre- 
trievable confusion,  was  the  American  alliance.  This  cor- 
rupt and  feeble  despotism,  trembling  on  the  verge  of  an  abyss, 
towards  which  time  and  events  were  urging  it,  is  made  to 
hold  out  a  strong  and  helping  hand  to  assist  the  rising  repub- 
lic into  the  family  of  nations.  The  generous  spirits  whom 
she  sent  to  lead  her  armies  to  the  triumphs  of  republicanism 
in  America,  came  back  to  demand  for  their  own  country,  and 
to  assert  on  their  own  soil,  those  political  privileges  for 
which  they  had  been  contending  in  America.  The  process 
of  argument  was  short.  If  this  plan  of  government,  admin- 
istered by  responsible  agents,  is  good  for  America,  it  is  good 
for  France.  If  our  brethren  in  the  United  States  will  not 
submit  to  power  assumed  by  men  not  accountable  for  its 
abuse,  why  should  we  ?  If  we  have  done  wisely  and  well 
in  going  to  shed  our  blood  for  this  constitutional  liberty 
beyond  the  Atlantic,  let  us  be  ready  to  shed  it  in  the  same 
great  cause,  for  our  fathers,  for  our  friends,  for  ourselves,  in 
our  native  land.  Is  it  possible  to  find,  I  will  not  say  a  sound 
and  sufficient  answer  to  this  argument,  but  an  answer  which 
would  be  thought  sound  and  sufficient  by  the  majority  of 
ardent  tempers  and  inquisitive  minds  ? 

The  atrocious,  the  unexampled,  the  ungodly  abuses  of  the 
reign  of  terror  have  made  the  very  name  of  the  French 
revolution  hateful  to  mankind.  The  blood  chills,  the  flesh 
creeps,  the  hair  stands  on  end,  at  the  recital  of  its  horrors ; 
and  no  slight  degree  of  the  odium  they  occasion  is  unavoid- 
ably reflected  on  all  who  had  any  agency  in  bringing  it  on. 
The  subsequent  events  in  Europe  have  also  involved  the 
French  revolution  in  a  deep  political  unpopularity.  It  is 
unpopular  in  Great  Britain,  in  the  rest  of  Europe,  in  America, 
in  France  itself;  and  not  a  little  of  this  unpopularity  falls  on 
every  one  whose  name  is  prominently  connected  with  it.  All 
this  is  prejudice,  —  natural  prejudice,  if  you  please,  —  but 
still  prejudice.  The  French  revolution  was  the  work  of 
sheer  necessity.  It  began  in  the  act  of  the  court,  casting 


EULOGY    ON    LA.FAYETTE.  485 

about  in  despair  for  the  means  of  facing  the  frightful  dilapi- 
dation of  the  finances.  Louis  XV.  was  right ;  the  monarchy 
could  not  go  on.  The  revolution  was  as  inevitable  as  fate. 

I  go  farther.  Penetrated  as  I  am  to  heart-sickness  when  I 
peruse  the  tale  of  its  atrocities,  I  do  not  scruple  to  declare, 
that  the  French  revolution,  as  it  existed  in  the  purposes  of 
Lafayette  and  his  associates,  and  while  it  obeyed  their  impulse, 
and  so  long  as  it  was  controlled  by  them,  was,  notwithstand- 
ing the  melancholy  excesses  which  stained  even  its  early 
stages,  a  work  of  righteous  reform ;  that  justice,  humanity, 
and  religion  demanded  it.  I  maintain  this  with  some  reluc- 
tance, because  it  is  a  matter  in  respect  to  which  all  are  not  of 
one  mind,  and  I  would  not  willingly  say  any  thing  on  this 
occasion  which  could  awaken  a  single  discordant  feeling. 
But  I  speak  from  a  sense  of  duty ;  and,  standing  as  I  do  over 
the  grave  of  Lafayette,  I  may  not,  if  my  feeble  voice  can 
prevent  it,  allow  the  fame  of  one  of  the  purest  men  that  ever 
lived  to  be  sacrificed  to  a  prejudice  ;  to  be  overwhelmed  with 
the  odium  of  abuses  which  he  did  not  foresee,  which,  if  he 
had  foreseen,  he  could  not  have  averted,  and  with  which  he 
had  himself  no  personal  connection,  but  as  their  victim.  It 
is  for  this  reason  I  maintain  that  the  French  revolution,  as 
conceived  by  Lafayette,  was  a  work  of  righteous  reform. 
Read  the  history  of  France,  from  the  revocation  of  the  edict 
of  Nantes  downwards.  Reflect  upon  the  scandalous  influence 
which  dictated  that  inhuman  decree  to  the  dotage  of  Louis 
XIV.,  a  decree  which  cost  France  as  much  blood  as  flowed 
under  the  guillotine.  Trace  the  shameful  annals  of  the 
regency,  and  the  annals,  not  less  shameful,  of  Louis  XV. 
Consider  the  overgrown  wealth  and  dissoluteness  of  the 
clergy,  and  the  arrogance  and  corruption  of  the  nobility, 
possessing  together  a  vast  proportion  of  the  property,  and 
bearing  no  part  of  the  burdens  of  the  state.  Recollect  the 
abuses  of  the  law,  — high  judicial  places  venal  in  the  market, 
—  warrants  of  arrest  issued  to  the  number  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  in  the  single  reign  of  Louis  XV.,  often- 
times in  blank,  to  court  favorites,  to  be  filled  up  with  what 
names,  for  what  prisons,  for  what  times  they  pleased.  Add 


486  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

to  this  the  oppression  of  the  peasantry  by  iniquitous  taxes 
that  have  become  proverbial  in  the  history  of  misgovern- 
ment,  and  the  outlawry  of  one  twenty-fourth  part  of  the 
population  as  Protestants,  who  were  forbidden  to  leave  the 
kingdom,  subject  to  be  shot  if  they  crossed  the  frontier,  but 
deprived  of  the  protection  of  the  government  at  home,  their 
contracts  annulled,  their  children  declared  illegitimate,  and 
their  ministers  —  who  might  venture  in  dark  forests  and 
dreary  caverns,  to  conduct  their  prohibited  devotions  — 
doomed  to  the  scaffold.  As  late  as  1745,  two  Protestant 
ministers  were  executed  in  France  for  performing  their  sacred 
functions.  Could  men  bear  these  things  in  a  country  like 
France,  a  reading,  inquiring  country,  with  the  success  of  the 
American  revolution  before  their  eyes,  and  at  the  close  of  the 
eighteenth  century?  Can  any  man  who  has  Anglo-Saxon 
blood  in  his  veins  hesitate  for  an  answer  ?  Did  not  England 
shake  off  less  abuses  than  these  a  century  and  a  half  before  ? 
Had  not  a  paltry  unconstitutional  tax,  neither  in  amount  nor 
in  principle  to  be  named  with  the  faille  or  the  gabelle,  just 
put  the  continent  of  America  in  a  flame  ?  and  was  it  possible 
that  the  young  officers  of  the  French  army  should  come  back 
to  their  native  land,  from  the  war  of  political  emancipation 
waged  on  this  continent,  and  sit  down  contented  under  the 
old  abuses  at  home  ?  It  was  not  possible.  The  revolution 
was  as  inevitable  as  fate,  and  the  only  question  was,  by  whose 
agency  it  should  be  brought  on. 

The  first  step  in  the  French  revolution  was,  as  is  well 
known,  the  Assembly  of  Notables,  meeting  of  the  22d  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1787.  Its  last  convocation  had  been  in  1626,  under  the 
Cardinal  Richelieu.  It  was  now  convoked  by  the  minister 
Calonne,  the  controller-general  of  the  finances,  from  the  utter 
impossibility,  without  some  unusual  resources,  of  providing 
for  the  deficiency  in  the  finances,  which  had,  for  the  preced- 
ing year,  amounted  to  181,000,000  livres,  and  was  estimated 
at  the  annual  average  of  140,000,000.  This  assembly  con- 
sisted of  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven  persons,  of  whom 
scarcely  ten  were  in  any  sense  the  representatives  of  the 
people.  Lafayette  was  of  course  a  distinguished  member, 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  487 

then  just  completing  his  thirtieth  year.  In  an  assembly  called 
by  direction  of  the  king,  and  consisting  almost  exclusively  of 
the  high  aristocracy,  he  stepped  forth,  at  once,  the  champion 
of  the  people.  It  was  the  intention  of  the  government  to 
confine  the  action  of  the  assembly  to  the  discussion  of  the 
state  of  the  finances,  and  the  contrivance  of  means  to  repair 
their  disorder.  It  was  not  so  that  Lafayette  understood  his 
commission.  He  rose  to  denounce  the  abuses  of  the  govern- 
ment. The  Count  d'Artois,  —  since  Charles  X., —  the  brother 
of  the  king,  attempted  to  call  him  to  order,  as  acting  on  a 
subject  not  before  the  assembly.  "  We  are  summoned,"  said 
Lafayette,  "to  make  the  truth  known  to  his  majesty.  I 
must  discharge  my  duty."  He  accordingly,  after  an  animated 
harangue  on  the  abuses  of  the  government,  proposed  the 
abolition  of  private  arrests  and  of  the  state  prisons,  in  which 
any  one  might  be  confined  on  the  warrant  of  the  minister , 
the  restoration  of  Protestants  to  the  equal  privileges  of  citi- 
zenship, and  the  convocation  of  the  States  General,  or  repre- 
sentatives of  the  people.  "  What !  "  said  the  Count  d'Artois, 
"  do  you  demand  the  States  General  ?  "  "  Yes,"  replied  La- 
fayette, -'and  something  better  than  that." 

The  Assembly  of  Notables  was  convoked  a  second  time  in 
1788,  and  Lafayette  was  again  found  in  his  place,  pleading 
for  the  representation  of  the  people.  As  a  member  of  the 
provincial  assemblies  of  Auvergne  and  Brittany,  he  also  took 
the  lead  in  all  the  measures  of  reform  that  were  proposed  by 
those  patriotic  bodies. 

But  palliatives  were  vain  :  it  became  impossible  to  resist 
the  impulse  of  public  opinion,  and  the  States  General  were 
convened.  This  body  assembled  at  Versailles,  on  the  third 
of  May,  1789.  According  to  Mr  Jefferson,  writing  from  per- 
sonal observation  on  the  spot,  its  initiatory  movements  were 
concerted  by  Lafayette  and  a  small  circle  of  friends,  at  the 
hotel  of  Mr  Jefferson  himself,  who  calls  Lafayette,  at  this 
momentous  period  of  its  progress,  the  Atlas  of  the  revolution.* 
He  proposed  and  carried  through  the  assembly,  of  which  he 

*  Jefferson's  Correspondence,  Vcl.  I.,  pp.  75,  84. 


488  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

was  vice-president,  a  declaration  of  rights  similar  to  those 
contained  in  the  American  constitutions.  He  repeated  the 
demand  which  he  had  made  in  the  Assembly  of  the  Notables, 
for  the  suppression  of  lettres  de  cachet,  and  the  admission  of 
Protestants  to  all  the  privileges  of  citizens.  For  the  three 
years  that  he  sustained  the  command  of  the  National  Guard, 
he  kept  the  peace  of  the  capital,  rent  as  it  was  by  the  intrigues 
of  the  parties,  the  fury  of  a  debased  populace,  and  the  agita- 
tions encouraged  by  foreign  powers ;  and  so  long  as  he 
remained  at  the  head  of  the  revolution,  with  much  to  con- 
demn arid  more  to  lament,  and  which  no  one  resisted  more 
strenuously  than  Lafayette,  it  was  a  work  of  just  reform,  after 
ages  of  frightful  corruption  and  abuse. 

Before  the  National  Guard  was  organized,  but  while  he 
filled  the  place  of  commander  of  the  city  guard  of  Paris,,  he 
was  the  great  bulwark  of  the  public  peace,  at  the  critical 
period  of  the  destruction  of  the  Bastile.  From  his  position 
at  the  head  of  the  embodied  militia  of  the  capital  and  its 
environs,  Lafayette  was  clothed  in  substance  with  the  con- 
centrated powers  of  the  state.  These,  it  is  unnecessary  to 
say,  were  exercised  by  him  for  the  preservation  of  order  and 
the  repression  of  violence.  Hundreds  of  those  threatened, 
at  this  unsettled  period,  as  victims  of  popular  violence,  were 
saved  by  his  intervention.  But  when  at  length  he  found  him- 
self unable  to  rescue  the  unfortunate  Foul  on  and  Berthier 
from  the  hands  of  the  infuriated  populace,  he  refused  to  retain 
a  power  which  he  could  not  make  effective,  and  resigned  his 
post.  The  earnest  entreaties  of  the  friends  of  order,  assuring 
him  that  they  deemed  the  public  peace  to  be  safe  in  no  hands 
but  his,  persuaded  him  to  resume  it ;  but  not  till  the  electoral 
districts  of  Paris  had  confirmed  the  appointment,  and  promised 
to  support  him  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty. 

It  was  not  long  after  this  event,  that  Lafayette  pro- 
posed the  organization  of  the  National  Guard  of  France, 
The  ancient  colors  of  the  city  of  Paris  were  blue  and  red. 
To  indicate  the  union,  which  he  wished  to  promote  between 
a  king  governing  by  a  constitution,  and  a  people  protected  by 
laws,  he  proposed  to  add  the  white,  —  the  royal  color  of 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  489 

France ;  and  to  form  of  the  three  the  new  ensign  of  the 
nation.  "  I  bring  you,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  a  badge  which 
will  go  round  the  world,  and  an  institution  at  once  civil  and 
military ;  which  will  change  the  system  of  European  tactics, 
and  reduce  the  absolute  governments  to  the  alternative  of  being 
conquered  if  they  do  not  imitate  it,  and  overturned  if  they 
do."  The  example  of  Paris  was  followed  in  the  provinces, 
and  the  National  Guard,  three  millions  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand strong,  was  organized  throughout  France,  with  Lafay- 
ette at  its  head. 

These  are  occurrences  which  arrest  the  attention,  as  the 
eye  runs  down  the  crowded  page  of  the  chronicles  of  the 
time.  But  we  are  too  apt  to  pass  over  unnoticed  the  hum- 
bler efforts,  by  which  Lafayette  endeavored,  from  the  first 
moment  of  the  revolution,  to  make  it  produce  the  fruits  of 
practical  reform  in  the  institutions  of  the  country.  Under 
his  influence,  and  against  strong  opposition,  a  deputation  was 
sent  by  the  city  of  Paris  to  the  National  Assembly,  demanding 
an  immediate  reform  in  criminal  jurisprudence, — the  pub- 
licity of  trials,  —  the  confrontation  of  witnesses,  —  the  privi- 
lege of  counsel  for  the  accused,  and  free  intercourse  between 
the  prisoner  and  his  family.  These  privileges  were  enjoyed 
by  the  accused  in  the  only  three  state  trials  which  took  place 
while  Lafayette  retained  his  popularity  ;  and  the  credit  of 
having  obtained  them  was  justly  ascribed  to  him  by  the 
counsel  of  one  of  the  individuals  by  whom  they  were  en- 
joyed. 

On  the  fifth  of  October,  1789,  occurred  the  only  incident 
in  the  life  of  Lafayette,  upon  which  calumny  has  ventured 
to  rely,  as  having  affixed  a  blot  upon  his  fair  fame.  Even 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  relating  the  history  of  this  occurrence, 
has  afforded  some  countenance  to  the  imputations  against  La- 
fayette. I  trust,  therefore,  I  shall  not  seem  to  descend  too 
much  into  particulars,  if  I  briefly  repeat  the  incidents  of  that 
night  of  terror. 

Paris,  during  the  whole  of  this  memorable  season,  was  in 
a  state  of  the  greatest  excitement.  All  the  elements  of  con- 
fusion were  in  the  highest  action.  A  great  political  revolu- 
i.  62 


490  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

tion  in  progress,  —  the  king  feeble  and  irresolute,  but  already 
subdued  by  the  magnitude  of  the  events,  —  his  family  and 
court  divided,  corrupt,  and  laboring,  by  intrigue  and  treachery, 
to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  revolution, —  the  Duke  of  Or- 
leans lavishing  immense  sums  to  sow  dissension,  and  urge  the 
revolution  to  a  point  at  which,  as  he  hoped,  it  would  transfer 
the  crown  from  the  head  of  his  unhappy  kinsman  to  his  own, 
—  the  fiercest  conflicts  among  the  different  orders  of  the 
state,  and  a  wild  consciousness  of  power  in  the  mass  of  the 
people,  late  awakened  for  the  recovery  of  long  lost  rights, 
and  the  revenge  of  centuries  of  oppression;  —  these  were 
some  of  the  elements  of  disorder.  The  match  was  laid  to 
the  train  at  a  festival  at  the  palace  of  Versailles,  at  which  the 
national  cockade  was  trampled  under  foot  by  the  body  guard, 
in  presence  of  the  queen  and  her  infant  son,  and  the  revolu- 
tion denounced  in  terms  of  menace  and  contumely. 

The  news  spread  to  Paris,  —  already  convulsed  by  the 
intrigues  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  exasperated  by  a  want 
of  bread.  The  hungry  populace  were  told  that  the  famine 
which  they  suffered  was  intentionally  produced  by  the  king 
and  his  ministry,  for  the  purpose  of  starving  them  back  to 
slavery.  Riots  broke  out  at  .an  early  hour  on  the  fifth  of 
October,  around  the  city  hall.  For  eight  hours,  Lafayette 
exerted  himself,  and  not  without  success,  to  restrain  the  fran- 
tic crowds  which  constantly  reassembled  as  soon  as  dispersed, 
with  cries,  "  To  Versailles  for  bread  !"  Hearing  at  length  that, 
from  other  points  of  the  capital,  infuriated  mobs  were  mov- 
ing towards  Versailles  with  muskets  and  cannons,  he  asked 
the  orders  of  the  municipality  to  hasten  himself,  with  a  de- 
tachment of  the  National  Guard,  to  the  defence  of  the  royal 
family.  On  his  arrival  at  Versailles,  he  administered  to  the 
troops  the  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  nation,  the  law,  and  the 
king.  He  entered  the  court  of  the  palace,  accompanied  only 
by  two  commissioners  of  the  city.  It  was  filled  with  Swiss 
guards  and  the  terrified  inmates  of  the  palace ;  and  as  he 
advanced,  the  gloomy  silence  was  broken  by  the  exclamation 
of  some  person  present,  "  Here  comes  Cromwell."  "  Crom- 
well," replied  Lafayette,  "would  not  have  come  here  <»lone.'? 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  491 

Admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  king,  whom  he  treated  with 
the  deference  due  to  his  rank,  Lafayette  asked  that  the  posts 
in  and  about  the  palace  might  be  confided  to  him.  This 
request  was  refused,  as  contrary  to  etiquette.  In  conse- 
quence, the  palace  itself,  the  interior  court,  and  the  approach 
by  the  garden  remained,  as  usual,  protected  only  by  the  body 
guard  and  the  Swiss.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
Lafayette  made  the  round  of  the  posts  under  his  command, 
and  asked  another  interview  with  the  king,  but  was  told  that 
he  was  asleep.  After  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  while  all 
was  quiet,  exhausted  by  nearly  twenty-four  hours  of  unre- 
mitted  and  anxious  labor,  he  repaired  to  his  quarters,  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  palace,  to  receive  the  reports  of  his 
aids,  to  prepare  despatches  for  Paris,  and  to  take  food  and 
repose.  Scarcely  had  he  reached  his  quarters  for  these  pur- 
poses, when  an  officer  ran  to  apprise  him  that  a  band  of 
ruffians,  concealed  in  the  shrubbery  of  the  garden,  had  burst 
into  the  palace,  and  forced  their  way  over  two  of  the  body 
guards  to  the  chamber  of  the  queen,  who  was  barely  enabled, 
by  the  brave  resistance  of  the  guards  at  her  door,  to  escape 
with  her  life. 

Lafayette  rushed  to  the  scene  of  action,  with  the  detach- 
ment of  his  force  nearest  at  hand,  and  took  the  proper  steps 
to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  disorder.  The  royal  family 
were  protected,  and  several  of  the  body  guards  rescued  from 
the  mob.  Happening  to  be  left  alone,  at  one  moment,  in  the 
midst  of  the  lawless  crowd,  an  individual  among  them  raised 
a  cry  for  the  head  of  Lafayette.  The  imminent  danger  in 
which  he  stood  was  averted  by  the  coolness  with  which  he 
ordered  the  madman  to  be  seized  by  his  fellows  around  him. 
The  king  deemed  it  necessary  to  yield  to  the  clamors  of  the 
populace,  and  return  with  them  to  Paris.  Lafayette  was 
alarmed  at  the  symptoms  of  disaffection  towards  the  queen, 
which  still  prevailed  in  the  throng.  At  once  to  make  trial 
of  the  popular  feeling,  and  to  extend  to  her  the  protection  of 
his  unbounded  popularity,  he  had  the  courage  to  propose  to 
her  to  appear  with  him  alone  on  the  balcony  of  the  castle, 
with  her  son  the  dauphin  on  her  arm.  Leading  her  forward 


492  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

towards  the  people,  it  was  his  purpose  to  make  an  appeal  to 
them  on  hei  behalf.  The  confused  acclamations  of  the  vast 
throng  prevented  his  being  heard  ;  and  unable  in  any  other 
manner  to  convey  to  the  immense  and  agitated  assemblage 
in  motion  beneath  them  the  sentiments  which  he  wished  to 
inspire  in  their  bosoms  towards  the  defenceless  person  of  the 
queen,  and  the  innocent  child  whom  she  held  in  her  arms, 
he  stooped  and  kissed  her  hand.  A  cry  of  "  Long  live  the 
queen  !  Long  live  Lafayette ! "  responded  to  the  action. 
Returning  to  the  royal  cabinet,  he  was  embraced  by  its 
inmates  as  the  savior  of  the  king  and  his  family ;  and,  till 
the  last  hour  of  their  unfortunate  existence,  the  king  and  the 
queen  never  failed  to  do  him  the  justice  to  acknowledge,  that 
on  this  terrific  day  he  had  saved  their  lives. 

From  the  commencement  of  the  revolution,  Lafayette 
refused  all  pecuniary  compensation  and  every  unusual  ap- 
pointment or  trust.  Not  a  dignity  known  to  the  ancient 
monarchy,  or  suggested  by  the  disorder  of  the  times,  but  was 
tendered  to  him  and  refused.  More  than  once  it  was  pro- 
posed to  create  him  field  marshal,  grand  constable,  lieutenant- 
general  of  the  kingdom.  The  titles  of  dictator  and  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of  France  were  successively 
proposed  to  him,  but  in  vain.  Knowing  that  the  representa- 
tives of  the  great  federation  of  the  National  Guards,  who 
repaired  to  Paris  in  1790,  designed  to  invest  him  with  the 
formal  command  of  this  immense  military  force,  he  hastened 
the  passage  of  a  decree  of  the  assembly  forbidding  any 
person  to  exercise  the  command  of  more  than  one  district. 
And  having,  at  the  close  of  a  review,  been  conducted  to  the 
National  Assembly  by  an  immense  and  enthusiastic  throng, 
he  took  that  occasion  to  mount  the  tribune,  and  announce 
his  intention  of  returning  to  private  life  as  soon  as  the 
preparation  of  the  constitution  should  be  completed. 

When  the  feudal  system  was  established  in  Europe,  and 
its  entire  population,  in  the  several  countries  into  which  it 
was  divided,  was  organized  on  a  military  principle,  the 
various  posts  of  command  were  dignified  with  appropriate 
names.  All  the  great  lords  were  barons,  and  according  to 


EULOGY   ON   LAFAYETTE.  493 

their  position  at  the  head  of  armies,  in  the  immediate  train 
of  the  king,  or  on  the  frontier,  they  were  dukes,  counts,  and 
marquises.  These  were  titles  significant  when  first  given, 
and  in  themselves  harmless,  when  considered  apart  from  the 
hereditary  transmission  of  estates  and  rank,  which  in  process 
of  time  went  with  them.  But  having  long  since  ceased  to 
possess  their  original  significance,  with  the  first  steps  of  the 
revolution,  their  frivolity  was  too  apparent  to  be  endured. 
There  was  a  sort  of  theatrical  insipidity  in  these  curious 
gradations  of  unmeaning  titles  among  men,  who,  in  difficult 
times,  were  met  together  on  serious  business  ;  and  among  the 
early  measures  of  the  assembly  was  the  decree  pronouncing 
their  abolition.  Lafayette,  whose  patent  of  nobility  had  at 
least  the  merit  of  four  centuries  of  antiquity,  was  among  the 
first  to  support  the  proposition,  and  lay  down  his  title  of 
marquis,  never  again  to  be  resumed.  In  the  lapse  of  a  few 
years,  the  member  of  assembly  who  proposed  the  abolition 
became  a  count  under  Bonaparte,  and  those  who  were  the 
most  zealous  to  procure  its  adoption  lived  to  be  seen  blazing 
in  the  decorations  of  the  imperial  court.  Whether  under 
Napoleon  or  the  restoration,  the  only  title  borne  by  Lafayette, 
till  his  death,  was  that  which  he  first  derived  from  his  com- 
mission in  the  American  army. 

On  the  recurrence  of  the  anniversary  of  the  destruction  of 
the  Bastile,  on  the  14th  of  July,  1790,  the  labors  of  the 
assembly  in  the  formation  of  the  constitution  were  so  far 
advanced  that  it  was  deemed  expedient,  by  a  solemn  act  of 
popular  ratification,  to  give  the  sanction  of  France  to  the 
principles  on  which  it  was  founded.  The  place  assigned  for 
the  ceremony  was  the  Champ  de  Mars,  and  the  act  itself  was 
regarded  as  a  grand  act  of  federation,  by  which  the  entire 
population  of  France,  through  the  medium  of  an  immense 
representation,  engaged  themselves  to  each  other,  by  oaths 
and  imposing  rites,  to  preserve  the  constitution,  the  mon- 
archy, and  the  law.  In  front  of  the  military  school  at  Paris, 
and  near  the  River  Seine,  a  vast  plain  is  marked  out  for  the 
imposing  pageant.  Innumerable  laborers  are  employed,  and 
still  greater  multitudes  of  volunteers  cooperate  with  them  in 


494  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

preparing  a  vast  embankment  disposed  on  terraces  and  cov- 
ered with  turf.  The  entire  population  of  the  capital  and  its 
environs,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  condition  of  life,  of 
both  sexes,  and  of  every  profession,  is  engaged  from  day  to 
day,  and  from  week  to  week,  in  carrying  on  the  excavation. 
The  academies  and  schools,  the  official  bodies  of  every 
description,  the  trades  and  the  professions,  and  every  class 
and  division  of  the  people  repair,  from  morning  to  night,  to 
take  a  part  in  the  work,  cheered  by  the  instruments  of  a 
hundred  full  orchestras,  and  animated  with  every  sport  and 
game  in  which  an  excited  and  cheerful  populace  gives  vent 
to  its  delight.  It  was  the  perfect  Saturnalia  of  liberty ;  the 
meridian  of  the  revolution,  when  its  great  and  unquestioned 
benefits  seemed  established  on  a  secure  basis,  with  as  little 
violence  and  bloodshed  as  could  be  reasonably  expected  in 
the  tumultuous  action  of  a  needy,  exasperated,  and  trium- 
phant populace. 

The  work  at  length  is  completed,  the  terraces  are  raised, 
and  three  hundred  thousand  spectators  are  seated  in  the  vast 
amphitheatre.  A  gallery  is  elevated  in  front  of  the  military 
school,  and  in  its  centre  a  pavilion  above  the  throne.  In  the 
rear  of  the  pavilion  is  prepared  a  stage,  on  which  the  queen, 
the  dauphin,  and  the  royal  family  are  seated.  The  deputed 
members  of  the  federation,  eleven  thousand  for  the  army  and 
navy,  and  eighteen  thousand  for  the  National  Guard  of 
France,  are  arranged  in  front,  within  a  circle,  formed  by 
eighty-three  lances  planted  in  the  earth,  adorned  with  the 
standards  of  the  eighty-three  departments.  In  the  midst  of 
the  Champ  de  Mars,  the  centre  of  all  eyes,  with  nothing 
above  it  but  the  canopy  of  heaven,  arose  a  magnificent  altar, 
the  loftiest  ever  raised  on  earth.  Two  hundred  priests  in 
white  surplices,  with  the  tri-color  as  a  girdle,  are  disposed  on 
the  steps  of  the  altar,  on  whose  spacious  summit  mass  is 
performed  by  the  Bishop  of  Autun.  On  the  conclusion  of 
the  religious  ceremony,  the  members  of  the  federation  and 
the  deputies  of  the  assembly  advance  to  the  altar,  and  take 
the  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  nation,  the  constitution,  and  the 
king.  The  king  himself  assumes  the  name  and  rank  of 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  495 

chief  of  the  federation,  and  bestows  the  title  of  its  major- 
general  on  Lafayette.  The  king  took  the  oath  on  his  throne  ; 
but  Lafayette,  as  the  first  citizen  of  France,  advancing  to 
the  altar,  at  the  head  of  thirty  thousand  deputies,  and  in  the 
name  of  the  mighty  mass  of  the  National  Guard,  amidst  the 
plaudits  of  near  half  a  million  of  his  fellow-citizens,  in  the 
presence  of  all  that  was  most  illustrious  and  excellent  in  the 
kingdom,  whose  organized  military  power  he  represented  as 
their  chief,  took  the  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  nation,  the  con- 
stitution, and  the  king.  Of  all  the  oaths  that  day  taken  by 
the  master  spirits  of  the  time,  his  was,  perhaps,  the  only  one 
kept  inviolate.  It  sealed  his  fidelity  to  the  doubtful  fortunes 
of  the  monarch,  and  in  the  onward  march  of  the  revolution, 
destined  to  wade  through  seas  of  blood,  it  raised  an  insep- 
arable barrier  between  Lafayette  and  the  remorseless  inno- 
vators who  soon  appeared  on  the  scene.  It  decided  his  own 
fortunes,  and  in  no  inconsiderable  degree  the  fortunes  of  the 
revolution. 

The  beauty  of  this  great  festival  was  impaired  by  a  drench- 
ing rain  ;  and  the  general  joy  with  which  it  was  celebrated 
was  a  last  gleam  of  sunshine  through  the  gathering  clouds  of 
the  revolution.  The  flight  of  the  king,  which  occurred  the 
following  summer,  placed  Lafayette  in  an  embarrassing 
position.  He  was  determined  to  maintain  the  sanctity  of  his 
oath  of  fidelity  to  this  unfortunate  prince.  The  king  had 
given  his  word  of  honor  to  Lafayette  that  he  would  not 
attempt  to  leave  the  capital ;  and  Lafayette  had,  in  conse- 
quence, pledged  his  own  honor  —  his  head  even  —  to  the 
assembly  that  no  attempt  to  carry  off  the  king  should  succeed. 
Nevertheless,  on  the  night  of  the  twenty-first  of  June,  the 
king  and  royal  family  succeeded  in  making  their  escape  from 
Paris,  and  Lafayette  was  denounced  the  same  day,  by  Dan- 
ton,  at  the  club  of  the  Jacobins,  as  being  either  a  traitor  who 
had  allowed  the  king  to  escape,  or  as  incompetent  to  his  trust, 
in  not  knowing  how  to  prevent  it.  With  the  moral  courage 
which  carried  him  safe  through  so  many  fearful  days  of  peril, 
Lafayette  presented  himself  calm  and  fearless  before  the 
incensed  multitude,  and  made  his  good  faith  to  the  public 


496  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

apparent.  But  the  difficulties  of  his  position  daily  increased. 
He  was  alternately  compelled  to  strain  his  popularity  to  the 
utmost,  in  repressing  the  violence  of  the  populace,  and  con- 
trolling the  intrigues  of  the  partisans  of  the  ancient  order  of 
things.  Weary  of  this  situation,  he  deemed  the  definitive 
adoption  of  the  constitution  a  justifiable  occasion  for  laying 
down  his  ungracious  command  ;  and,  on  the  eighth  of  Octo- 
ber, 1791,  he  took  his  leave  of  the  National  Guard,  in  a  letter 
which  would  have  done  no  discredit,  for  its  patriotic  spirit 
and  enlightened  counsels,  to  the  great  American  exemplar 
whom  he  had  adopted  as  the  object  of  his  respectful  imitation. 
Hitherto  the  powers  of  Europe  had  looked  with  astonish- 
ment and  apparent  inactivity  upon  the  portentous  events  that 
were  crowding  upon  each  other  in  France  ;  and  France  her- 
self, rent  with  factions,  and  distracted  with  the  embarrass- 
ments incident  to  such  mighty  changes,  had  scarcely  turned 
her  attention  to  the  foreign  relations  of  the  country.  In  this 
manner,  five  years  from  the  meeting  of  the  Assembly  of  Nota- 
bles passed  away,  during  which  there  was  unconsciously 
forming  and  organizing  itself,  at  home  and  abroad,  the  princi- 
ple of  those  mighty  wars  which  were  to  signalize  the  next 
twenty  years.  From  the  commencement  of  1792,  the  ques- 
tions which  arose  between  the  French  and  Austrian  govern- 
ments, relative  to  the  territorial  jurisdiction  of  the  empire  on 
the  border  of  France,  ripened  towards  a  rupture  ;  and,  strange 
as  it  may  now  appear,  an  open  declaration  of  hostilities  was 
the  desire  of  all  the  numerous  parties,  interests,  and  govern- 
ments concerned  in  the  issue.  The  King  of  France,  the 
queen,  and  the  partisans  of  the  old  regime,  generally,  at 
home  ;  the  emperor  and  the  other  sovereigns  of  Europe,  the 
emigrant  princes  and  nobles,  and  their  friends,  desired  a  war, 
as  the  means  of  pouring  down  upon  the  popular  party  of 
France  the  combined  military  powers  of  the  ancient  govern- 
ments. On  the  other  hand,  the  leaders  of  all  the  factions  in 
France  desired  not  less  ardently  a  declaration  of  war,  as  the 
means  of  strengthening  their  power  by  the  organization  and 
control  of  standing  armies,  and  gratifying  the  ambitious,  the 
avaricious,  the  needy,  and  the  adventurous  in  their  ranks  with 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  497 

promotion  and  plunder.  The  zealots  burned  with  the  vision 
of  revolutionizing  Europe.  The  honest  constitutional  party 
alone  deprecated  the  measure  ;  but  even  they  were  bound  by 
their  oaths  to  take  arms  against  the  preposterous  ultimatum 
of  the  Austrian  cabinet,  which  required  France  to  renounce 
the  constitution  of  1791  —  a  constitution  which  the  king  and 
people  had  alike  sworn  to  defend.  And  thus  all  parties  strange- 
ly rushed  into  a  war,  destined,  in  turn,  to  subvert,  crush,  arid 
revolutionize,  with  indiscriminate  fury,  every  continental  party 
and  government  drawn  into  its  vortex. 

The  formal  declaration  of  war  was  made  by  Louis  XVI., 
on  the  twentieth  of  March,  1792.  Three  armies,  each  nomi- 
nally consisting  of  fifty  thousand  men,  were  raised  to  guard 
the  frontier  of  the  Netherlands,  and  placed  under  the  command 
of  Liickner,  an  ancient  chieftain  of  the  Seven  Years'  war, 
Lafayette,  and  Rochambeau.  The  plan  of  operations  was 
decided  by  the  king  in  council,  at  Paris,  in  conference  with 
the  three  generals,  who  immediately  took  the  field.  The 
political  intrigues  of  the  capital  were  not  slow  in  reaching 
the  camp.  The  Jacobins  at  Paris,  not  yet  the  majority,  but 
rapidly  becoming  so,  had  long  marked  out  Lafayette  as  their 
victim.  Orders  were  sent  by  the  minister  of  war,  designedly 
to  embarrass  and  disgust  him  ;  and  he  soon  found  that  it  was 
necessary  for  him  openly  to  denounce  the  Jacobins  to  the 
Legislative  Assembly  and  the  nation,  as  the  enemies  of  the 
country.  He  accordingly,  on  the  sixteenth  of  June,  addressed 
a  letter  to  the  assembly,  in  which  he  proclaimed  this  faction 
to  be  the  enemy  of  the  constitution  and  the  people  ;  and 
called  on  all  the  friends  of  liberty  to  unite  for  its  suppression. 
The  voice  of  reason  for  a  moment  prevailed  :  a  majority  of 
the  assembly  received  with  approbation  the  letter  of  Lafay- 
ette ;  and  seventy-five  of  the  departments  of  France,  in  their 
local  assemblies,  gave  their  formal  sanction  to  its  sentiments. 
Braving  the  enemy  in  his  stronghold,  he  followed  up  his 
letter  by  hastening  to  Paris,  appearing  at  the  bar  of  the 
assembly,  and  demanding  the  punishment  of  the  wretches 
who  had  forced  the  Tuileries,  and  menaced  and  insulted  the 
king  the  preceding  week.  Anxious  for  the  safety  of  the 
VOL.  i.  63 


498  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

king's  person,  he  proposed  to  him  to  retire  to  Compiegne, 
under  the  protection  of  his  army,  and  there  await  the  issue 
of  the  efforts  for  the  suppression  of  the  Jacobins.  Incredible 
as  it  may  appear,  these  proposals  were  rejected,  from  an  un- 
willingness on  the  part  of  the  queen  to  owe  her  life  a  second 
time  to  Lafayette,  and  in  consequence  of  the  advice  secretly 
conveyed  to  the  court  by  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  then  con- 
centrating his  army  on  the  frontiers  ;  who  recommended  to 
the  king  to  remain  in  tranquillity  at  the  Tuileries,  till  the 
allied  forces  should  hasten  to  his  relief. 

Lafayette  accordingly  returned  to  his  army,  defeated  in  the 
last  efforts  which  afforded  a  shadow  of  hope  for  the  safety  of 
the  royal  family  or  the  preservation  of  the  constitution.  On 
the  eighth  of  August,  he  was  formally  denounced  in  the 
assembly  as  an  enemy  of  his  country,  and  a  motion  made  for 
his  arrest  and  trial.  After  vehement  debates  it  was  put  to 
vote,  and  resulted  in  his  acquittal,  by  a  majority  of  407  to 
224.  But  many  of  those  who  voted  in  his  favor  were,  on 
the  following  day,  insulted  by  the  populace.  Baffled  in  the 
attempt  to  destroy  him,  and  in  him  the  last  support  of  the 
constitutional  monarchy,  and  weary  of  the  tardy  march  of 
their  infernal  policy,  the  Jacobins  at  Paris  resolved,  without 
further  delay,  to  strike  a  blow  which  should  intimidate  tho 
majority  of  the  assembly  and  the  constitutional  party  through- 
out the  country,  and,  by  a  frightful  measure  of  violence  and 
blood,  establish  the  reign  of  terror.  Accordingly,  the  horrid 
tragedy  of  the  tenth  of  August  was  enacted. — the  palace  forced 
by  the  army  of  assassins,  its  guards  massacred,  and  the  king 
and  the  royal  family  driven  to  take  refuge  in  the  assembly ; 
by  which,  after  suffering  every  thing  that  was  distressing, 
humiliating,  and  cruel,  he  was  deposed,  and  ordered  to  be 
imprisoned  in  the  Temple. 

The  news  of  these  events  reached  Lafayette,  at  his  head- 
quarters in  Sedan.  He  had  sworn  to  support  the  constitution 
and  to  be  faithful  to  the  king.  The  assembly  —  the  capi- 
tal —  the  people  —  the  army,  were  struck  with  dismay  ;  — 
the  horrid  scenes  of  Paris  were  acted  over  in  the  departments, 
and  the  reign  of  terror  was  established.  Commissioners  were 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  499 

sent  by  the  assembly  to  the  army,  to  arrest  the  generals  ;  —  it 
remained  for  Lafayette  to  anticipate  them,  by  an  attack  on 
the  enemy,  which,  if  successful,  would  but  put  new  strength 
in  the  hands  of  Robespierre  and  his  associates,  —  to  march  on 
Paris,  which,  in  the  present  state  of  feeling  in  the  nation  and 
in  the  army,  was  to  deliver  himself  up  to  his  executioners,  — 
or  to  save  himself  by  flight.  Happily,  he  adopted  the  latter 
course  ;  and,  having  placed  his  army  in  the  best  condition 
possible  to  receive  no  injury  from  his  leaving  it,  he  passed, 
with  a  few  of  his  friends  and  aids,  across  the  frontier,  intend- 
ing to  repair  to  Holland  or  England,  countries  not  as  yet 
engaged  in  the  war.  While  in  the  territory  of  Liege,  he  fell 
into  the  hands  of  an  Austrian  military  force,  and,  notwith- 
standing the  circumstances  under  which  he  had  left  his  army 
and  France,  was  treated  as  a  prisoner.  Various  unworthy 
attempts  were  made  to  engage  Lafayette  in  the  service  of  the 
armies  marching  against  France,  and  to  draw  from  him  infor- 
mation which  would  be  of  use  in  the  approaching  campaign. 
Refusing  to  act  the  treacherous  part  proposed  to  him,  he  was 
handed  over  to  the  Prussian  government,  and  dragged  from 
fortress  to  fortress,  till  he  was  thrown  into  the  dungeons  of 
Magdeburg.  The  secrets  of  that  horrid  prison-house  have 
been  laid  open  to  the  world.  Lafayette  was  there  confined 
in  a  subterraneous  vault,  — dark,  damp,  and  secured  by  four 
successive  doors,  loaded  with  bolts  and  chains.  But  the  arms 
of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  were  unsuccessful  in  France.  On 
the  heights  of  Valmy,  the  first  of  those  victories  of  revolu- 
tionary fame  which  astonished  and  terrified  the  world  was 
gained  over  the  Prussian  army.  Negotiations  for  peace  were 
concluded,  and  an  exchange  of  prisoners  was  proposed.  To 
evade  the  necessity  of  including  Lafayette  in  the  exchange, 
he  was  transferred  by  the  King  of  Prussia  to  the  Emperor  of 
Germany,  and  immured  in  the  castle  of  Olmiitz,  in  Moravia. 
On  entering  this  prison,  Lafayette  and  his  fellow-sufferers  were 
told,  that,  "  from  that  time  forward,  they  would  see  nothing 
but  the  four  walls  within  which  they  were  enclosed  ;  that  no 
tidings  would  reach  them  of  what  was  passing  without ;  that 
not  even  their  jailers  would  pronounce  their  names ;  that, 


500  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

when  mentioned  in  the  despatches  of  the  government,  it 
would  only  be  by  their  numbers  on  the  register ;  that  no 
intelligence  would  pass  from  them  to  their  families,  nor  from 
their  families  to  them ,  and  that,  to  prevent  their  seeking 
relief  from  the  slow  agonies  of  this  torture,  they  would  be 
interdicted  the  use  of  knives  or  forks,  and  every  other  instru- 
ment of  self-destruction." 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  state  that  the  health  of  Lafayette 
sunk,  in  no  long  time,  under  this  barbarous  treatment.  After 
a  thrice  repeated  opinion  on  the  part  of  his  physician,  that  he 
could  not  live  unless  permitted  to  breathe  a  purer  air  than 
that  of  his  dungeon,  and  after  answering  the  first  application 
by  the  remark,  that  "  he  was  not  yet  ill  enough,"  the  court 
of  Vienna,  either  touched  with  remorse,  or  shaking  before 
the  outcry  of  public  indignation,  in  Europe  and  America, 
granted  him  permission  to  take  exercise  abroad  under  an 
armed  escort,  but  not  on  condition  that  he  would  not  attempt 
his  escape,  as  was  falsely  asserted  by  his  calumniators. 

This  opportunity  of  taking  the  air  abroad  gave  occasion 
for  a  bold  and  generous  effort  to  effect  his  liberation.  His 
friends,  from  the  first  moment  of  his  captivity,  had  had  this 
object  at  heart ;  but  after  his  removal  to  Olmiitz,  they 
remained  for  a  long  time  ignorant  of  the  place  of  his  cap- 
tivity. The  Count  de  Lally-Tolendal,  who,  notwithstanding 
their  difference  of  opinion  in  politics,  had  ever  preserved  his 
personal  respect  arid  attachment  for  Lafayette,  spared  no  pains 
to  discover  the  place  of  his  seclusion.  He  employed  for  this 
purpose  a  young  Hanoverian  physician,  Dr  Eric  Bollmann, 
afterwards  a  naturalized  citizen  of  the  United  States.  Dr 
Bollmann  immediately  undertook  a  journey  of  inquiry  into 
Germany,  but  could  learn  only  that  Lafayette  had  been  trans- 
ferred from  the  Prussian  to  the  Austrian  dominions.  On  a  sec- 
ond visit  to  Germany,  made  with  the  same  benevolent  object, 
he  succeeded  in  ascertaining  that  there  were  four  state  pris- 
oners confined,  with  extreme  rigor,  in  separate  cells  at  Olmiitz, 
which  he  had  no  reason  to  doubt  were  Lafayette  and  his 
companions.  He  immediately  devoted  himself  to  the  object 
of  effecting  his  liberation.  He  established  himself  for  six 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  501 

months  as  a  physician  at  Vienna,  to  prevent  the  suspicions 
which  might  be  awakened  by  an  unprepared  appearance  in 
the  Austrian  dominions,  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of 
Olmutz.  While  engaged  in  concerting  his  plans,  Mr  Huger, 
of  South  Carolina,  the  son  of  the  gentleman  under  whose 
roof  Lafayette  passed  his  first  night  in  America,  happened  to 
arrive  at  Vienna  on  his  travels,  and  engaged  with  cordiality 
in  the  generous  enterprise  of  Dr  Bollmann. 

They  repaired  at  length  to  Olmutz.  Dr  Bollmann  had  con- 
trived to  obtain  letters  at  Vienna,  which  obtained  him  the 
means,  in  his  professional  character,  of  secretly  communicat- 
ing with  Lafayette,  and  agreeing  upon  a  signal,  by  which  he 
might  be  recognized  by  the  two  friends.  They  ascertained 
the  day  when  he  would  be  permitted  to  take  exercise  abroad. 
On  that  day,  they  went  on  their  horses  to  a  place  under 
the  ramparts  of  the  city,  on  the  road  by  which  Lafayette  and 
his  guard  would  pass.  The  carriage  soon  arrives,  containing 
Lafayette,  an  officer,  and  a  soldier.  The  friends  allow  it  to 
pass  them,  that  they  may  exchange  the  signal  agreed  upon. 
This  being  done,  they  again  pass  forward  in  advance  of  the 
carriage,  towards  a  spot  where  Lafayette  was  accustomed  to 
descend  and  walk.  The  moment  he  set  his  foot  on  the 
ground,  Lafayette,  unarmed  as  he  was,  fell  upon  his  two 
guards.  The  soldier,  disarmed  and  terrified,  instantly  fled  to 
the  city,  to  report  what  had  happened.  The  contest  with 
the  officer  was  violent.  Lafayette  succeeded  in  depriving 
him  of  his  sword,  but  in  the  contest,  the  officer,  with  his 
teeth,  tore  the  hand  of  Lafayette  to  the  bone.  He  also  suf- 
fered a  violent  strain  in  his  back,  in  consequence  of  his  exer- 
tions. The  two  friends  came  up  at  the  moment  of  the  struggle, 
and  placing  Lafayette  on  one  of  their  horses,  Mr  Huger  told 
him  in  English  to  go  to  Hoff.  This  was  a  post  town  about 
twenty  miles  from  Olmutz,  where  they  had  prepared  a  travel- 
ling carriage.  He  mistook  the  expression,  as  merely  a  direc- 
tion to  go  off,  and  failed  to  take  the  proper  road. 

One  of  the  horses  of  Messrs  Bollmann  and  Huger  was 
trained  to  carry  two  persons ;  the  other  horse,  on  which  La- 
fayette was  to  be  mounted,  unfortunately  escaped  in  the  con- 


602  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

fusion  of  the  struggle.  It  became  necessary,  therefore,  that 
he  should  mount  the  horse  destined  for  the  two  friends  ;  and 
on  their  urgent  solicitation,  he  rode  forward  alone,  while  they 
remained  behind,  to  retake  their  horse.  Some  time  was  lost 
in  effecting  this  object,  and  when  mounted  by  Messrs  Boll- 
mann  and  Huger,  he  proved  intractable,  and  it  was  found 
impossible  to  make  him  proceed.  Mr  Huger  generously 
insisted  on  Dr  Bollmann's  riding  off  alone,  while  he  should 
make  his  escape  as  well  as  he  could  on  foot.  Mr  Huger  was 
soon  stopped  by  some  peasants  who  had  witnessed  the  scene, 
and  handed  over  to  the  officers  and  guards  who  hastened  in 
pursuit.  Dr  Bollmann  arrived  with  ease  at  Hoff,  but  there 
had  the  mortification  to  find  that  Lafayette  was  prevented  by 
some  cause,  at  that  time  unknown,  from  joining  him.  He 
passed  the  Prussian  frontier,  but  was  arrested  in  a  day  or  two, 
as  an  Austrian  fugitive. 

It  was  almost  night  when  these  events  took  place.  Lafay- 
ette was  oppressed  with  pain  and  fatigue.  Being  left  alone, 
from  the  causes  mentioned,  he  was  not  only  at  a  loss  what 
direction  to  take,  but  was  in  a  state  of  the  most  painful 
anxiety  for  the  fate  of  his  generous  liberators.  He  proceeded 
towards  the  frontier,  on  the  road  by  which  he  had  entered 
Moravia,  intending  to  secrete  himself  there ;  and  if  Messrs 
Bollmann  and  Huger  should  be  in  prison,  to  give  himself  up, 
on  condition  of  their  release.  Not  well  knowing  the  road, 
he  requested  a  peasant  to  guide  him.  His  broken  German, 
the  blood  with  which  he  was  covered,  arid  the  condition  of 
his  clothing,  sufficiently  betrayed  his  character.  The  peasant 
left  him,  pretending  to  go  in  search  of  a  horse,  on  which  to 
accompany  him,  but  in  reality  to  give  the  alarm  at  the  next 
town,  where  he  was  arrested.  The  following  day,  he  was 
brought  back  to  Olmiitz.* 

Bollmann  and  Huger  were  thrown  into  close  dungeons, 
and  chained  by  the  neck  to  the  floor.  Mr  Huger  asked 

*  A  portion  of  these  details  are  from  an  unpublished  letter  of  Latour- 
Maubourg,  one  of  the  companions  of  Lafayette  in  captivity,  preserved 
among  the  Washington  papers.  See,  also,  the  highly  interesting  "  Story 
of  the  Life  of  Lafayette,  as  told  by  a  Father  to  his  Children." 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  503 

permission  to  send  an  open  letter  to  his  mother,  containing  the 
words,  "  I  am  alive,"  and  nothing  else  ;  but  he  was  refused. 
He  was  left  in  the  most  distressing  uncertainty  as  to  the  fate 
of  Lafayette  and  his  companion,  and  could  form  only  the 
darkest  anticipations  of  his  own.  His  food  was  bread  and 
water.  His  cell  was  dark,  and  once  in  six  hours  it  was 
entered  by  the  jailer,  to  see  that  his  chain  was  sound.  After 
six  months'  confinement,  their  case  was  adjudged  ;  and  owing 
to  the  kind  interference  of  Count  Metrowsky,  a  nobleman  of 
liberal  character  and  great  influence,  who  found  in  their  crime 
but  a  new  title  to  respect,  they  were  released  with  a  nominal 
punishment,  and  ordered  to  quit  the  Austrian  dominions. 
Scarcely  were  they  at  liberty,  when  an  order  was  issued  for 
the  re-investigation  of  their  case ;  but  they  were  already  in 
safety  beyond  the  frontier. 

The  treatment  of  Lafayette,  after  his  recapture,  was  doubly 
severe.  On  his  first  entrance  into  the  prison  at  Olmiitz,  he 
had  been  plundered  of  his  watch  and  shoe-buckles,  the  only 
articles  of  value  which  the  Prussians  had  left  in  his  posses- 
sion. But  on  his  return  to  his  dungeon,  he  was  stripped  of 
the  few  comforts  of  life  which  he  had  before  been  permitted 
to  enjoy.  He  was  kept  in  a  dark  room,  denied  a  supply  of 
decent  clothing,  and  fed  on  bread  and  water.  He  was  con- 
stantly told,  as  he  was  the  first  day  of  his  capture  by  the 
Austrians,  that  he  was  reserved  for  the  scaffold. 

But  whatever  anxiety  he  might  feel  on  his  own  account 
was  merged  in  his  cruel  solicitude  for  his  family.  No  tidings 
were  permitted  to  reach  him  from  his  wife  and  children,  and 
the  last  intelligence  he  had  received  from  her  was,  that  she 
was  confined  in  prison  at  Paris.  There  she  had  been  thrown 
during  the  reign  of  terror.  Her  grandmother,  the  Duchess 
de  Noailles,  her  mother,  the  Duchess  d'Ayen,  and  her  sister, 
the  Countess  de  Noailles,  had  perished  in  one  day  on  the 
scaffold.  She  was  herself  reserved  for  the  like  fate  ;  but  the 
downfall  of  Robespierre  preserved  her.  During  her  imprison- 
ment, her  great  anxiety  was  for  her  son,  George  Washington 
Lafayette,  then  just  attaining  the  age  at  which  he  was  liable 
to  be  forced  by  the  conscription  into  the  ranks  of  the  army. 


504  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

The  friendly  assistance  of  two  of  our  fellow -citizens,  whom 
I  have  the  pleasure  to  see  before  me,  Mr  Joseph  Russell  and 
Colonel  Thomas  H.  Perkins,  was  exerted  in  his  behalf;  and 
in  consequence  of  their  influence  with  Boissy  d' Anglas,  then  a 
member  of  the  committee  of  safety,  they  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining permission  for  his  departure.  He  was  conveyed  by 
Mr  Russell  to  Havre,  whence  he  took  passage  to  Boston,  and 
after  a  month  spent  in  this  city,  was  received  into  the  family 
of  General  Washington  at  Mount  Vernon,  where  he  remained 
till  the  liberation  of  his  father.* 

Relieved  from  anxiety  on  account  of  her  son,  the  wife  of 
Lafayette  was  resolved,  with  her  daughters,  if  possible,  to 
share  his  captivity.  Just  escaped  from  the  dungeons  of  Rob- 
espierre, she  hastened  to  plunge  into  those  of  the  German 
emperor.  This  admirable  lady,  who,  in  the  morning  of  life, 
had  sent  her  youthful  hero  from  her  side,  to  fight  the  battles 
of  constitutional  freedom  beneath  the  guidance  of  Washing- 
ton, now  goes  to  immure  herself  with  him  in  the  gloomy 
cells  of  Olmiitz.  Born  and  brought  up  to  all  that  was  re- 
fined, luxurious,  and  elegant,  she  goes  to  shut  herself  up  in 
the  poisonous  wards  of  his  dungeon  ;  to  partake  his  wretched 
fare  ;  to  share  his  daily  repeated  insults  ;  to  breathe  an  atmos- 
phere so  noxious  and  intolerable,  that  the  jailers,  who  bring 
them  their  daily  food,  are  compelled  to  cover  their  faces  as 
they  enter  their  cells. 

Landing  at  Altona,  on  the  ninth  of  September,  1795,  she 
proceeded  with  an  American  passport,  under  the  family  name 
of  her  husband,  (Motier,)  to  Vienna.  Having  arrived  in  that 
city,  she  obtains,  through  the  compassionate  good  offices  of 
Count  Rosemberg,  an  interview  with  the  emperor.  Francis 
II.  is  not  a  cruel  man.  At  the  age  of  twenty-five  he  has  not 
yet  been  hardened  by  long  training  in  the  school  of  stale 
policy.  He  is  a  husband  and  a  father.  The  heroic  wife  of 
Lafayette,  with  her  daughters,  is  admitted  to  his  presence. 
She  demands  only  to  share  her  husband's  prison,  but  she 

*  The  letter  of  Lafayette  to  Colonel  Perkins,   written  in  acknowledg 
ment  of  these  services,  immediately  after  his  liberation,  w  before  me  . 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  505 

implores  the  emperor  to  restore  to  liberty  the  father  of  her 
children.  "  He  was  indeed,  sire,  a  general  in  the  armies  of 
republican  America ;  but  it  was  at  a  time  when  the  daughter 
of  Maria  Theresa  was  foremost  in  his  praise.  He  was  indeed 
a  leader  of  the  French  revolution,  but  not  in  its  excesses,  not 
in  its  crimes ;  and  it  was  owing  to  him  alone,  that  on  the 
dreadful  fifth  of  October,  Marie  Antoinette  and  her  son  had 
not  been  torn  in  pieces  by  the  bloodthirsty  populace  of  Paris. 
He  is  not  the  prisoner  of  your  justice,  nor  your  arms,  but 
was  thrown  by  misfortune  into  your  power,  when  he  fled 
before  the  same  monsters  of  blood  and  crime  who  brought 
the  king  and  queen  of  France  to  the  scaffold.  Three  of  my 
family  have  perished  on  the  same  scaffold  —  my  aged  grand- 
parent, my  mother,  and  my  sister.  Will  the  Emperor  of 
Germany  close  the  dark  catalogue,  and  doom  my  husband  to 
a  dungeon  worse  than  death?  Restore  him,  sire,  not  to  his 
army,  to  his  power,  to  his  influence  ;  but  to  his  shattered 
health,  his  ruined  fortunes, — to  the  affections  of  his  fellow- 
citizens  in  America,  where  he  is  content  to  go  and  close  his 
career,  —  to  his  wife  and  children." 

The  emperor  is  a  humane  man.  He  hears,  considers,  hes- 
itates ;  tells  her  "  his  hands  are  tied,"*  by  reasons  of  state, 
and  permits  her  to  shut  herself  up,  with  her  daughters,  in 
the  cells  of  Olmvitz  !  There  her  health  soon  fails  ;  she  asks 
to  be  permitted  to  pass  a  month  at  Vienna,  to  recruit  it,  and 
is  answered,  that  she  may  leave  the  prison  whenever  she 
pleases ;  but  if  she  leaves  it,  she  is  never  again  to  return. 
On  this  condition,  she  rejects  the  indulgence  with  disdain, 
a"nd  prepares  herself  to  sink,  under  the  slow  poison  of  an 
infected  atmosphere,  by  her  husband's  side.  But  her  brave 
heart  —  fit  partner  for  a  hero's  —  bore  her  through  the  trial ; 
though  the  hand  of  death  was  upon  her.  She  prolonged  a 
feeble  existence  for  ten  years,  after  their  release  from  cap- 

*  This  remark  of  the  emperor  was  the  subject  of  severe  reflection  in 
the  admirable  speech  in  which  Mr  Fox  endeavored  to  induce  the  British 
ministry  to  interfere  for  the  liberation  of  Lafayette  ;  for  while  the  emperor 
had  given  this  reason  for  not  releasing  him,  the  British  minister  pleaded  his 
inability  to  interfere  with  the  internal  concerns  of  the  German  empire 

VOL.  i.  64 


506  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

tivity,  but  never  wholly  recovered  the  effects  of  this  merci- 
less imprisonment. 

The  interposition  of  the  friends  of  Lafayette,  in  Europe 
and  America,  to  obtain  his  release,  was  unsuccessful.  On 
the  floor  of  the  House  of  Commons,  General  Fitzpatrick,  on 
the  sixteenth  of  December,  1796,  made  a  motion  in  his 
behalf.  It  was  supported  by  Colonel  Tarleton,  who  had 
fought  against  Lafayette  in  America,  by  Wilberforce,  and 
Fox.  The  speech  of  the  latter  is  one  of  the  most  admirable 
specimens  of  eloquence  ever  heard  in  a  deliberative  assembly. 
But  justice  remonstrated  and  humanity  pleaded  in  vain. 
General  Washington,  then  President  of  the  United  States, 
wrote  a  letter  to  the  Emperor  of  Germany.  What  would 
not  the  emperor  afterwards  have  given,  to  have  had  the  wis- 
dom to  grant  the  liberty  of  Lafayette  to  the  entreaty  of 
Washington ! 

But  an  advocate  was  at  hand,  who  would  not  be  refused. 
The  Man  of  Destiny  was  in  the  field.  The  Archduke 
Charles  was  matched  against  him,  during  the  campaign  of 
1797.  The  eagles  of  Bonaparte  flew  from  victory  to  victory. 
The  archduke  displayed  against  him  all  the  resources  of  the 
old  school ;  but  the  days  of  strategy  were  past.  Bonaparte 
stormed  upon  his  front,  threw  his  army  across  deep  rivers, 
and  burst  upon  his  rear  ;  and  annihilated  the  astonished  arch- 
duke in  the  midst  of  his  mano3uvres.  He  fought  ten  pitched 
battles  in  twenty  days,  drove  the  Austrians  across  the  Julian 
Alps,  approached  within  eleven  days'  march  of  Vienna,  and 
then  granted  the  emperor,  just  preparing  for  flight  into  the 
recesses  of  Hungary,  the  treaty  of  Campio  Formio,  having 
demanded,  in  the  preliminary  conferences  of  Leoben,  the 
release  of  Lafayette.*  Napoleon  was  often  afterwards  heard 
to  say  that,  in  all  his  negotiations  with  foreign  powers,  he 
had  never  experienced  so  pertinacious  a  resistance  as  that 
which  was  made  to  this  demand.  The  Austrian  envoys,  at 

*  Sir  Walter  Scott,  by  a  somewhat  singular  inadvertence,  states  that 
Lafayette  was  released  19th  December,  1795,  in  exchange  for  the  daughter 
of  Louis  XVI.,  afterwards  Duchess  of  Angouleme.  —  Life  of  ./Vapo/eon, 
VoL  I.  ch.  13. 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  507 

the  French  head-quarters,  asserted  that  he  was  not  in  confine- 
ment in  the  imperial  territories.  But  Bonaparte  distrusted 
this  assertion,  and  sent  a  former  aid-de-camp  of  Lafayette  to 
Vienna,  to  communicate  directly  with  the  Austrian  minister 
on  the  subject.  He  was  finally  released  on  the  twenty-third 
of  September,  1797.  But  while  his  liberation  was  effected 
by  the  interference  of  the  army  of  the  republic  abroad,  the 
confiscation  and  sale  of  the  residue  of  his  property  went  on 
at  home. 

Included  in  the  general  decree  of  outlawry,  as  an  emigrant, 
Lafayette  did  not  go  back  to  France  till  the  directory  was 
overturned.  On  the  establishment  of  the  consular  govern- 
ment, being  restored  to  his  civil  rights,  though  with  the  loss 
of  nearly  all  his  estates,  he  returned  to  his  native  country, 
and  sought  the  retirement  of  Lagrange.  He  was  indebted  to 
Napoleon  for  release  from  captivity,  probably  for  the  lives  of 
himself  and  family.  He  could  not  but  see  that  all  hope  of 
restoring  the  constitution  of  1791,  to  which  he  had  pledged 
his  faith,  was  over,  and  he  had  every  reason  of  interest  and 
gratitude  to  compound  with  the  state  of  things  as  it  existed. 
Sut  he  never  wavered  for  a  moment.  Bonaparte  endeavored, 
in  a  personal  interview,  to  persuade  him  to  enter  the  senate, 
but  in  vain.  When  the  question  was  submitted  to  the  people 
of  France  whether  Bonaparte  should  be  first  consul  for  life, 
Lafayette  gave  his  vote  in  the  negative,  in  a  letter  to  Napo- 
leon, which  has  been  published.  Of  all  the  ancient  nobility 
who  returned  to  France,  Lafayette  and  the  young  Count 
de  Vaudreuil  were  the  only  individuals  who  refused  the  favors 
which  Napoleon  was  eager  to  accord  to  them.  Of  all  to 
whom  the  cross  of  the  legion  of  honor  was  tendered,  Lafay- 
ette alone  had  the  courage  to  decline  it.  Napoleon  is  said  to 
have  exclaimed,  when  they  told  him  that  Lafayette  refused 
the  decoration,  "  What,  will  nothing  satisfy  that  man  but 
the  chief  command  of  the  National  Guard  of  the  empire  ?  " 
Yes.  much  less  abundantly  satisfied  him  ;  —  the  quiet  posses- 
sion of  the  poor  remnants  of  his  estate,  enjoyed  without 
sacrificing  his  principles. 

From  this  life  nothing  could  draw  him.      Mr  Jefferson 


508  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

offered  him  the  place  of  governor  of  Louisiana,  then  just 
become  a  territory  of  the  United  States;  but  he  was  un- 
willing, by  leaving  France,  to  take  a  step  that  would  look 
like  a  final  abandonment  of  the  cause  of  constitutional  liberty 
on  the  continent  of  Europe.  Napoleon  ceased  to  importune 
him,  and  he  lived  at  Lagrange,  retired  and  unmolested,  the 
only  public  man  who  had  gone  through  the  terrible  revolu- 
tion and  remained  in  France,  with  a  character  free  from  every 
just  impeachment.  He  entered  it  with  a  princely  fortune,  — 
in  the  various  high  offices  which  he  had  filled  he  had  declined 
all  compensation, — and  he  came  out  poor.  He  entered  it  in 
the  meridian  of  early  manhood,  with  a  frame  of  iron.  He 
came  out  of  it,  fifty  years  of  age,  his  strength  impaired  by 
the  hardships  of  his  long  imprisonment.  He  had  filled  the 
most  powerful  and  responsible  offices ;  and  others,  still  more 
powerful,  —  the  dictatorship  itself,  —  had  been  offered  him  ; 
he  was  reduced  to  obscurity  and  private  life.  He  entered  the 
revolution  with  a  host  of  ardent  colleagues  of  the  constitu- 
tional party ;  of  those  who  escaped  the  guillotine,  most  had 
made  their  peace  with  Napoleon.  Not  a  few  of  the  Jacobins 
had  taken  his  splendid  bribes ;  the  emigrating  nobility  came 
back  in  crowds,  and  put  on  his  livery  ;  fear,  interest,  weari- 
ness, amazement,  and  apathy  reigned  in  France  and  in 
Europe  ;  kings,  emperors,  armies,  nations  bowed  at  his  foot- 
stool ;  and  one  man  alone,  —  a  private  man,  who  had  tasted 
power,  and  knew  what  he  sacrificed,  —  who  had  inhab- 
ited dungeons,  and  knew  what  he  risked,  —  who  had  done 
enough  for  liberty  in  both  worlds  to  satisfy  the  utmost  requi- 
sitions of  her  friends,  —  this  man  alone  stood  aloof  in  his 
honor,  his  independence,  and  his  poverty.  And  if  there  is  a 
man  in  this  assembly  that  would  not  rather  have  been  Lafay- 
ette to  refuse,  than  Napoleon  to  bestow,  his  wretched  gew- 
gaws ;  that  would  not  rather  have  been  Lafayette  in  retire- 
ment and  obscurity,  and  just  not  proscribed,  than  Napoleon 
with  an  emperor  to  hold  his  stirrup  ;  if  there  is  a  man  who 
would  not  have  preferred  the  honest  poverty  of  Lagrange  to 
the  bloody  tinsel  of  St  Cloud ;  who  would  not  rather  have 
shared  the  peaceful  fireside  of  the  friend  of  Washington, 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  509 

than  have  spurred  his  triumphant  courser  over  the  crushed 
and  blackened  heaps  of  slain,  through  the  fire  and  carnage 
of  Marengo  and  Austerlitz,  —  that  man  has  not  an  American 
heart  in  his  bosom. 

But  the  time  at  length  arrived  which  was  to  call  Lafayette 
from  his  retirement,  and  place  him  again  —  the  veteran  pilot 
—  at  the  helm.  The  colossal  edifice  of  empire,  which  had 
been  reared  by  Napoleon,  crumbled  by  its  own  weight.  The 
pride,  the  interests,  the  vanity,  the  patriotism  of  the  nations 
were  too  deeply  outraged  and  wounded  by  his  domination. 
In  the  ancient  world,  or  in  the  middle  ages,  —  whose  exam- 
ples he  too  much  studied,  —  his  dynasty  would  have  stood 
for  centuries.  He  might  have  founded  an  empire  as  durable 
as  that  of  Caesar  or  Mahomet,  had  he,  like  them,  lived  in  an 
age  when  there  was  but  one  centre  of  civilization,  and  when 
it  was  possible  for  one  mighty  vortex  of  power  to  draw  into 
itself  all  the  intelligence  and  capacity  of  the  world.  But  the 
division  of  civilized  man  into  several  coexisting  national 
systems,  —  all,  in  the  main,  equally  enlightened  and  intelli- 
gent, —  each  having  its  own  pride,  its  own  patriotism,  its  own 
public  opinion,  —  created  an  obstacle  too  powerful  for  the 
genius  of  Napoleon ;  too  strong  for  his  arm  ;  too  various,  too 
widely  complicated  for  his  skill ;  too  sturdy  for  his  gold. 
Accordingly,  his  mighty  system  went  to  pieces.  The  armies 
of  insulted  and  maddened  Europe  poured  down  like  an 
inundation  on  France. 

It  was  then  that  Lafayette  appeared  again  upon  the  scene. 
His  "  well-known  voice,"  never  silent  when  there  was  danger 
and  hope  for  the  cause  of  liberty,  is  heard,  clear  and  strong, 
amidst  the  tumult  of  invading  armies  and  contending  factions. 
When,  after  the  disaster  of  Waterloo,  Napoleon  came  back  in 
desperation  to  Paris,  and  began  to  scatter  dark  hints  of  dis- 
solving the  representative  chamber,  repeating  at  Paris  the 
catastrophe  of  Moscow,  and  thereby  endeavoring  to  rouse  the 
people  of  France  to  one  universal  and  frantic  crusade  of 
resistance,  Lafayette  was  the  first  to  denounce  the  wild  sug- 
gestion. He  proposed  a  series  of  resolutions,  setting  forth 
that  the  independence  of  the  nation  was  threatened,  declaring 


510  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

the  chambers  a  permanent  body,  and  denouncing  the  penal- 
ties of  high  treason  against  all  attempts  to  dissolve  it.  The 
same  evening  he  proposed,  in  the  secret  assembly  of  the 
council  of  state,  the  abdication  of  Napoleon.  The  subject 
was  again  pressed  the  following  day ;  but  the  voluntary  act 
of  the  emperor  anticipated  the  decision. 

Thus,  true  to  the  cause  to  which  his  life  was  sacred,  La- 
fayette was  found  at  the  tribune,  in  the  secret  council,  before 
the  assembled  populace,  and  as  the  deputed  representative  of 
his  distracted  country  in  the  camp  of  the  invading  enemy,  — 
every  where,  in  short,  except  where  places  of  precedence 
were  courted,  and  money  greedily  clutched.  Unhappily  for 
France,  all  who  were  thrown,  in  the  troubled  state  of  the 
times,  to  the  head  of  affairs,  were  not  of  the  same  stamp. 
Men  who,  in  the  horrible  National  Convention,  had  voted  for 
the  death  of  Louis  XVI.,  —  men  who  had  stimulated  and 
executed  the  worst  measures  of  Napoleon,  —  who  had  shot 
the  arrows  of  his  police  in  the  dark,  and  whetted  the  glitter- 
ing sabre  of  his  conquests,  and  now  that  he  was  in  the  dust, 
bravely  trod  upon  his  neck ;  these  were  the  instruments,  the 
confidants,  the  favorites  of  the  allied  powers,  and  of  the  mon- 
arch whom  they  installed  over  reluctant  France.  There  was, 
of  course,  no  place  for  Lafayette  among  men  like  these.  He 
was  not  with  them  in  the  revolution,  and  could  not  be  with 
them  in  the  restoration.  He  was  too  old  to  make  new  ac- 
quaintances. There  was  room  in  the  cabinet  and  palace  of 
Louis  XVIII.  for  men  that  were  stained  with  the  best  blood 
of  France,  not  excepting  his  brothers  ;  but  there  was  no  room 
for  the  man  to  whom  it  was  more  than  once  owing,  that  his 
brother's  blood  and  his  own  had  not  flowed  together  in  the 
streets  of  Paris. 

But  when,  under  the  restoration,  the  representative  system 
was  established  in  France,  there  was  a  place,  a  fitting  place, 
for  him  at  the  tribune ;  a  faithful  representative  of  the  people, 
a  friend  of  liberty  regulated  and  protected  by  law,  an  enemy 
of  usurpation  at  home  and  abroad,  not  less  than  of  the 
bloody  reactions  to  which  it  leads.  From  his  first  appear- 
ance in  the  chamber,  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life,  he  is  found 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  511 

at  his  post,  the  able,  the  eloquent,  the  consistent  champion 
of  the  principles  to  which  from  his  youth  he  had  been 
devoted. 

His  reappearance  on  the  scene,  as  the  active  expounder  and 
champion  of  constitutional  liberty,  was  not  unobserved  by 
the  people  of  the  United  States.  A  generation  had  arisen, 
who  had  read  the  story  of  his  services,  and  heard  their 
fathers  speak  with  affection  of  his  person.  They  were 
anxious  themselves  to  behold  the  friend  of  their  fathers,  and 
to  exhibit  to  him  the  spectacle  of  the  prosperity  he  had  done 
so  much  to  establish.  A  resolution  passed  the  two  houses 
of  Congress,  unanimously,  requesting  the  President  to  invite 
him  to  visit  the  United  States.  In  conveying  this  invitation, 
Mr  Monroe  informed  Lafayette  that  the  North  Carolina  ship 
of  the  line  was  ordered  to  bring  him  to  America.  With 
characteristic  modesty  he  declined  the  offer  of  a  public  vessel, 
and  with  his  son  and  secretary  took  passage  on  board  one  of 
the  packet  ships,  between  New  York  and  Havre.  He  arrived 
at  New  York  on  the  fifteenth  of  August,  1824,  just  forty 
years  from  the  time  of  his  landing  in  the  same  city,  on  occa- 
sion of  his  visit  to  the  United  States,  after  the  close  of  the 
revolutionary  war. 

You  need  not,  fellow-citizens,  that  I  should  repeat  to  you 
the  incidents  of  that  most  extraordinary  triumphal  progress 
through  the  country.  They  are  fresh  in  your  recollection  ; 
and  history  may  be  searched  in  vain  for  a  parallel  event. 
His  arrival  in  the  United  States  seemed  like  the  reappearance 
of  a  friendly  genius,  on  the  theatre  of  his  youthful  and 
beneficent  visitations.  He  came  back  to  us  from  long  ab- 
sence, from  exile  and  from  dungeons,  almost  like  a  beloved 
parent  rising  from  the  dead.  His  arrival  called  out  the  whole 
population  of  the  country  to  welcome  him,  but  not  in  the 
stiff  uniform  of  a  parade,  or  the  court  dress  of  a  heartless 
ceremony.  Society,  in  all  its  shades  and  gradations,  crowded 
cordially  around  him,  all  penetrated  with  one  spirit,  —  the 
spirit  of  admiration  and  love.  The  wealth  and  luxury  of 
the  coast,  the  teeming  abundance  of  the  west ;  the  elegance 
of  the  town,  the  cordiality  of  the  country  j  the  authorities, 


512  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

municipal,  national,  and  state ;  the  living  relics  of  the  revo- 
lution, honored  in  the  honors  paid  to  their  companion  in 
arms ;  the  scientific  and  learned  bodies,  the  children  at  the 
schools,  the  associations  of  active  life  and  of  charity ;  the 
exiles  of  Spain,  France,  and  Switzerland ;  banished  kings, 
patriots  of  whom  Europe  was  not  worthy ;  and  even  the 
African  and  Indian,  —  every  thing  in  the  country  that  had 
life  and  sense,  —  took  a  part  in  this  auspicious  drama  of 
real  life. 

Had  the  deputed  representatives  of  these  various  interests 
and  conditions  been  assembled,  at  some  one  grand  ceremonial 
of  reception,  in  honor  of  the  illustrious  visitor,  it  would,  even 
as  the  pageant  of  a  day,  have  formed  an  august  spectacle. 
It  would  even  then  have  outshone  those  illustrious  triumphs 
of  Rome,  where  conquered  nations  and  captive  princes  fol- 
lowed in  the  train,  which  seemed  with  reason  almost  to  lift 
the  frail  mortal  thus  honored  above  the  earth  over  which  he 
was  borne.  But  when  we  consider  that  this  glorious  and 
purer  triumph  was  coextensive  with  the  Union ;  that  it 
swept  majestically  along,  from  city  to  city  and  from  state  to 
state  —  one  unbroken  progress  of  rapturous  welcome  ;  banish- 
ing feuds,  appeasing  dissensions,  hushing  all  tumults  but  the 
acclamations  of  joy ;  uniting  in  one  great  act  of  public  salu- 
tation the  conflicting  parties  of  a  free  people,  on  the  eve  and 
throughout  the  course  of  a  strenuous  contest,  with  the  aura 
epileptica  of  the  canvas  already  rushing  over  the  body  politic  ; 
that  it  was  continued  near  a  twelvemonth,  —  an  annus  mirab- 
ilis  of  rejoicing,  auspiciously  commenced,  successfully  pur- 
sued, and  happily  and  gracefully  accomplished,  — we  perceive 
in  it  a  chapter  in  human  affairs  equally  singular,  delightful, 
instructive,  and  without  example. 

But  let  no  one  think  it  was  a  light  and  unreflecting  move- 
nent  of  popular  caprice.  There  was  enough  in  the  character 
and  fortunes  of  the  man  to  sustain  and  justify  it.  In  addi- 
tion to  a  rare  endowment  of  personal  qualities,  sufficient  for 
an  ample  assignment  of  merit  to  a  dozen  great  men  of  the 
common  stamp,  it  was  necessary,  towards  the  production  of 
such  an  effect  on  the  public  mind,  that  numberless  high  and 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  513 

singular  associations  should  have  linked  his  name  with  all 
the  great  public  movements  of  half  a  century.  It  was  neces- 
sary that,  in  a  venerable  age,  he  should  have  come  out  of  a 
long  succession  of  labors,  trials,  and  disasters,  of  which  a 
much  smaller  portion  is  commonly  sufficient  to  break  down 
the  health  and  spirits,  and  send  the  weary  victim,  discouraged 
and  heart-sick,  to  an  early  retreat.  It  was  necessary  that  he 
should,  in  the  outset,  taking  age,  and  circumstances,  and  suc- 
cess into  consideration,  have  done  that  for  this  far  distant 
land  which  was  never  done  for  any  country  in  the  world. 
Having  performed  an  arduous,  an  honorable,  and  triumphant 
part  in  our  revolution,  —  itself  an  event  of  high  and  tran- 
scendent character,  —  it  was  necessary  that,  pursuing  at  home 
the  path  of  immortal  renown  on  which  his  feet  had  laid  hold 
in  America,  he  should  have  engaged  among  the  foremost  in 
that  stupendous  revolution,  in  his  own  country,  where  he 
stood  sad,  but  unshaken,  amidst  the  madness  of  an  empire  ; 
faithful  to  Liberty  when  all  else  were  faithless ;  true  to  her 
holy  cause  when  the  crimes  and  horrors  committed  in  her 
name  made  the  brave  fear  and  the  good  loathe  it ;  innocent 
and  pure  in  that  "  open  hell,  ringing  with  agony  and  blas- 
phemy, smoking  with  suffering  and  crime."  It  was  neces- 
sary to  the  feeling  with  which  Lafayette  was  received  in 
this  country,  that  the  people  should  remember  how  he  was 
received  in  Prussia  and  Austria ;  how,  when  barely  escaping 
from  the  edge  of  the  Jacobin  guillotine  at  Paris,  he  was 
generously  bolted  down  into  the  underground  caverns  of 
Magdeburg ;  and  shut  up  to  languish  for  years  with  his  wife 
and  daughter,  in  a  pestiferous  dungeon,  by  an  emperor  who 
had  to  thank  him  alone  that  his  father's  sister  had  not  been 
torn  limb  from  limb  by  the  poissardes  of  Paris.  It  was 
necessary  to  justify  the  enthusiasm  with  which  Lafayette 
was  welcomed  to  republican  America,  that  when  another 
catastrophe  had  placed  the  Man  of  Fate  on  the  throne  of 
France,  and  almost  of  Europe,  Lafayette  alone,  not  in  a  con- 
vulsive effort  of  fanatical  hardihood,  but  in  the  calm  con- 
sciousness of  a  weight  of  character  which  would  bear  him 
out  in  the  step,  should,  deliberately  and  in  writing,  refuse 
VOL.  i.  65 


514  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

to  sanction  the  power  before  which  the  contemporary  gener- 
ation quailed.  When  again  the  wheel  of  empire  had  turned, 
and  this  dreadful  colossus  was  about  to  be  crushed  beneath 
the  weight  of  Europe,  (mustered  against  him  more  in  des- 
peration than  self-assured  power,)  and  in  falling  had  dragged 
down  to  earth  the  honor  and  the  strength  of  France, — it 
was  necessary,  when  the  dust  and  smoke  of  the  contest  had 
blown  off,  that  the  faithful  sentinel  of  liberty  should  be  seen 
again  at  his  post,  ready  once  more  to  stake  life  and  reputation 
in  another  of  those  critical  junctures,  when  the  stoutest 
hearts  are  apt  to  retire,  and  leave  the  field  to  desperate  men, 
—  the  forlorn  hope  of  affairs,  —  whom  recklessness  or  neces- 
sity crowds  up  to  the  breach.  But  to  refute  every  imputation 
of  selfishness,  of  a  wish  to  restore  himself  to  the  graces  of 
restored  royalty,  —  himself  the  only  individual  of  continental 
Europe,  within  the  reach  of  Napoleon's  sceptre,  who  refused  to 
sanction  his  title,  —  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  be  coldly 
viewed  by  the  reappearing  dynasty,  and  that  he  should  be 
seen  and  heard,  not  in  the  cabinet  or  the  antechamber, 
swarming  with  men  whom  Napoleon  had  spangled  with 
stars,  but  at  the  tribune ;  the  calm,  the  rational,  the  ever- 
consistent  advocate  of  liberty  and  order,  a  representative  of 
the  people,  in  constitutional  France.  It  was  there  I  first  saw 
him.  I  saw  the  marshals  of  Napoleon,  gorged  with  the 
plunder  of  Europe,  and  stained  with  its  blood,  borne  on  their 
flashing  chariot  wheels  through  the  streets  of  Paris.  I  saw 
the  ministers  of  Napoleon  filling  the  highest  posts  of  trust 
and  honor  under  Louis  XVIII. ;  and  I  saw  the  friend  of 
Washington,  glorious  in  his  noble  poverty,  looking  down 
from  the  dazzling  height  of  his  consistency  and  his  princi- 
ples, on  their  paltry  ambition  and  its  paltry  rewards. 

But  all  this,  much  as  it  was,  was  not  all  that  combined  to 
insure  to  Lafayette  the  respect,  the  love,  the  passionate  admi- 
ration of  the  people  to  whom  he  had  consecrated  the  bloom 
of  his  youth  ;  for  whom  he  had  lavished  his  fortune  and 
blood.  These  were  the  essentials  ;  but  they  were  not  all. 
In  order  to  give  even  to  the  common  mind  a  topic  of  pleasing 
and  fanciful  contrast,  where  the  strongest  mind  found  enough 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  515 

to  command  respect  and  astonishment  ;  in  order  to  make  up 
a  character  in  which  even  the  ingredients  of  romance  were 
mingled  with  the  loftiest  and  sternest  virtues,  it  was  neces- 
sary that  the  just  and  authentic  titles  to  respect  which  we 
have  considered  should  be  united  in  an  individual  who  de- 
rived his  descent  from  the  ancient  chivalry  of  France  ;  that 
he  should  have  been  born  within  the  walls  of  a  feudal  castle  ; 
that  the  patient  volunteer  who  laid  his  head  contentedly  on  a 
wreath  of  snow,  beneath  the  tattered  canvas  of  a  tent  at 
Valley  Forge,  should  have  come  fresh  from  the  gorgeous  can- 
opies of  Versailles  ;  that  he  should  abandon  all  that  a  false 
ambition  could  covet,  as  well  as  attain  all  that  a  pure  ambition 
could  prize  ;  and  thus  begin  life  by  trampling  under  foot  that 
which  Chatham  accepted,  which  Burke  did  not  refuse,  and 
for  which  so  many  of  the  eminent  men  of  Europe  barter 
health,  comfort,  and  conscience. 

Such  was  the  man  whom  the  Congress  of  the  United  States 
invited  to  come  and  gather  in  the  rich  harvest  of  a  people's 
love.  Well  might  he  do  it.  He  had  sown  it  in  weakness  ; 
should  he  not  reap  it  in  power  ?  He  had  come  to  us,  a  poor 
and  struggling  colony,  and  risked  his  life  and  shed  his  blood 
in  our  defence  ;  was  it  not  just  that  he  should  come  again  in 
his  age  to  witness  the  fruits  of  his  labors,  to  rejoice  with  the 
veteran  companions  of  his  service,  and  to  receive  the  bene- 
diction of  the  children,  as  he  had  received  that  of  the  fathers  ? 

But  the  delightful  vision  passes.  He  returns  to  France  to 
reappear  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  the  still  consistent 
champion  of  reform,  both  at  home  and  throughout  Europe. 
His  extraordinary  reception  in  the  United  States  had  given 
an  added  weight  to  his  counsels,  which  nothing  could  with- 
stand. It  raised  him  into  a  new  moral  power  in  the  state  ;  an 
inofficial  dictator  of  principle  ;  a  representative  of  the  public 
opinion  of  the  friends  of  liberty  in  the  whole  world ;  a  per- 
sonation of  the  spirit  of  reform.  At  the  close  of  the  session 
of  1829,  on  occasion  of  a  visit  to  the  place  of  his  birth,  in 
the  ancient  province  of  Auvergne,  his  progress  through  the 
country  was  the  counterpart  of  his  tour  through  the  United 
States.  In  the  towns  and  villages  on  his  way  he  was 


516  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

received  in  triumph.  Arches  arose  over  his  venerable  head  ; 
the  population  gathered  round  him  at  the  festive  board  ;  and 
the  language  of  the  addresses  made  to  him,  and  of  his  replies, 
was  of  startling  significance.  It  was  a  moment,  you  may 
remember,  in  France,  when  the  tide  of  reform  seemed  flow- 
ing backwards.  Some  of  the  worst  abuses  of  the  ancient 
regime  were  openly  reestablished.  The  ministry  was  filled 
with  some  of  the  most  obnoxious  of  the  emigrant  nobility. 
The  expedition  to  Algiers  gave  no  small  eclat  to  the  adminis- 
tration, feeble  and  odious  as  it  was  ;  and,  on  a  superficial 
view,  it  seemed  that  the  entire  fruit  of  the  immense  sacrifices 
which  France  had  made  for  constitutional  liberty  was  about 
to  be  wrested  from  her.  Such,  I  own,  for  a  short  time,  was 
my  own  apprehension.  But  the  visit  of  Lafayette  to  the 
south  of  France  convinced  me  that  there  was  no  ground  for 
despondence.  I  saw  plainly,  that,  either  by  way  of  awaken- 
ing the  slumbering  spirit  of  resistance,  or  because  he  saw 
that  it  was  awakened,  and  demanded  sympathy  and  encour- 
agement, —  either  to  excite  or  guide  the  public  mind,  —  the 
sagacious  veteran  was  on  the  alert ;  and  that  language,  such 
as  he  was  daily  addressing  to  the  people,  —  received  in  willing 
ears,  —  was  the  award  of  fate  to  the  administration.  In 
some  remarks,  submitted  to  the  public  on  the  first  of  Janu- 
ary, 1830,  I  ventured  to  express  myself  in  the  following 
manner :  — 

"  When  we  read,  in  the  last  papers  from  France,  the  ac- 
count of  the  present  state  of  things  in  that  kingdom ;  when 
we  notice  the  irresistible  onset  made  upon  the  ministry,  and 
the  visible  perturbation  of  its  ranks,  it  is  impossible  wholly 
to  suppress  the  idea  that  another  great  change  is  at  hand. 
When  we  see  the  spontaneous  movement  of  the  people 
towards  the  person  of  Lafayette,  the  glowing  zeal  with  which 
they  have  turned  an  excursion  of  business  into  another  tri- 
umphant progress,  —  strewing  his  way  with  honors,  such  as 
loyal  France  never  paid  to  her  most  cherished  princes,  —  we 
cannot  but  think,  that,  in  the  language  of  the  venerable  Span- 
ish priest  at  New  Orleans,  he  is  still  reserved  for  great  achieve- 
ments. The  feelings  of  men  inspire  their  actions  ;  public 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  517 

sentiment  governs  states  ;  and  revolutions  are  the  outbreak- 
ing of  mighty,  irrepressible  passions.  It  is  in  vain  to  deny 
that  these  passions  are  up  in  France ;  and  happy  is  it  that 
they  have  concentrated  themselves  upon  a  patriot  whom 
prosperity  has  been  as  little  able  to  corrupt  as  adversity  to 
subdue." 

What  was  vague  foreboding  on  the  first  of  January,  was 
history  by  the  last  of  July.  On  that  day,  Charles  X.  and  his 
family,  "  who  had  learned  nothing  and  forgotten  nothing  " 
in  twenty  years  of  banishment  and  exclusion,  were  on  their 
way  to  the  frontier ;  and  Lafayette  was  installed,  at  the  Hotel 
de  Ville,  chief  of  the  National  Guards,  at  the  head  of  a  new 
revolution. 

At  the  head  of  a  new  revolution  ?  Not  so.  He  lives,  the 
fortunate  man,  to  see  the  first  revolution  emerging  from  years 
of  abuse  arid  seas  of  blood,  and  approaching  its  peaceful 
consummation.  A  weak  and  besotted  prince,  —  who  had 
attempted,  by  one  monstrous  act  of  executive  usurpation,  to 
repeal  the  entire  charter,  and  had  thus  produced  a  revolt,  in 
which  six  thousand  lives  were  lost,  —  is  permitted,  unmolested 
and  in  safety,  to  leave  the  city,  where,  twenty-seven  years  'be- 
fore, his  innocent  brother  had  been  dragged  to  the  scaffold. 
A  dynasty  is  changed  with  the  promptitude  and  order  of  an 
election.  And  when  the  critical  period  comes  on  for  the  trial 
of  the  guilty  ministers,  —  the  responsible  advisers  of  the 
measures  which  had  drenched  Paris  in  blood,  —  Lafayette  is 
able,  by  the  influence  of  his  venerable  authority  and  the  ex- 
ercise of  his  military  command,  to  prevent  the  effusion  of 
blood,  and  save  their  forfeited  lives. 

In  these  his  successful  efforts  to  prevent  the  late  revolution 
from  assuming  a  sanguinary  character,  I  own  I  cannot  but 
think  that  our  revered  Lafayette  did  as  much  for  the  cause  of 
liberty  as  by  all  his  former  efforts  and  sacrifices.  There  is 
nothing  more  efficacious  in  reconciling  men  to  the  continued 
existence  of  corrupt  forms  of  government  than  the  fear,  that, 
when  once  the  work  of  revolution  is  undertaken,  blood  of 
necessity  will  begin  to  flow  in  torrents.  It  was  the  reign  of 
terror  which  reconciled  men  to  the  reign  of  Napoleon  ;  and  it 


519  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

is  the  dread  of  seeing  its  scenes  reacted  in  Austria,  in  Prussia, 
and  in  Russia,  which  prevents  the  intelligence  of  those  coun- 
tries from  engaging  earnestly  in  the  work  of  radical  reform. 

In  all  the  steps  of  the  recent  revolution  in  France,  so  long 
as  there  was  responsibility  to  be  assumed  or  danger  to  be 
braved,  Lafayette  was  its  leader.  It  is  plain,  from  documents 
before  the  world,  that  he  could  have  organized  the  govern- 
ment on  the  republican  model,  and  placed  himself  at  its  head. 
Although,  in  refraining  from  this,  it  may  be  justly  said  that 
he  abstained  from  a  course  for  which  his  advanced  age,,  his 
pledged  disinterestedness,  and  the  consistency  of  his  whole 
life  unfitted  him  ;  it  is  not  the  less  true,  that,  in  deciding  for 
an  hereditary  executive,  with  a  legislature  chosen  by  the 
people,  —  or,  in  his  own  language,  a  monarchy  surrounded 
by  republican  institutions,  —  he  acted  up  to  the  principles 
with  which  he  commenced  his  political  course.  There  is  as 
much  truth  as  point  in  the  remark  ascribed  to  Charles  X.,  on 
his  way  to  the  sea-coast,  "  that  he  and  Lafayette  were  the 
only  consistent  men  of  the  day." 

Born  for  mighty  constitutional  movements,  for  the  support 
of  great  principles,  to  take  the  direction  in  critical  junctures 
of  affairs,  —  but  absolutely  insensible  to  the  love  of  power 
or  money,  or  the  passion  for  place,  —  Lafayette's  functions 
were  exhausted,  as  soon  as  the  new  government  was  organ- 
ized. He  recreated  the  National  Guard,  which  he  had  called 
into  being  in  1789,  and  in  which  lay  the  germ  of  the  vic- 
tories of  Napoleon  ;  placed  a  constitutional  crown,  without 
commotion  or  bloodshed,  on  the  head  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans ; 
and  carried  the  government  through  the  crisis  of  the  trial  of 
the  ministers.  Having  performed  these  great  services  to  the 
country,  and  disdaining  to  enter  into  the  petty  politics  which 
succeed  a  great  movement,  —  the  scramble  for  office  and  the 
rivalries  of  small  men,  —  he  laid  down  his  commission  as 
commander-in-chief  of  the  National  Guards,  and  confined 
himself  to  his  duties,  as  a  representative  of  the  people,  and 
to  the  exercise  of  his  moral  influence,  as  the  acknowledged 
chief  of  the  constitutional  party  on  the  continent  of  Europe. 

In  the  course  of  the  last  spring,  our  beloved  benefactor,  in 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  519 

attending  the  funeral  of  a  colleague  in  the  Chamber  of  Depu- 
ties, from  long  exposure  to  the  dampness  of  the  air  and 
ground,  contracted  a  cold,  which  settled  on  his  lungs,  and 
which,  though  deemed  slight  at  first,  gradually  assumed  a 
serious  aspect.  After  a  protracted  struggle  with  the  remains 
of  a  once  vigorous  constitution,  the  disease  became  alarming, 
but  not,  as  was  supposed,  critical  till  the  nineteenth  of  May. 
On  that  day;  by  a  mark  of  public  sympathy  never  perhaps  paid 
before  to  a  private  citizen,  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  directed 
their  president  to  address  a  note  to  Mr  G.  W.  Lafayette, 
inquiring  after  the  health  of  his  venerable  parent.  At  the 
time  of  this  inquiry,  the  symptoms  of  the  disease  were  less 
alarming ;  but  an  unfavorable  change  soon  took  place,  and, 
on  the  following  day,  the  illustrious  sufferer  —  the  patriarch 
of  liberty  —  died,  in  the  seventy-seventh  year  of  his  age. 
He  was  buried,  by  his  own  direction,  not  within  the  vaults 
of  the  Pantheon, — not  among  the  great  and  illustrious  that 
people  the  silent  alleys  of  Pere  la  Chaise,  —  but  in  a  rural 
cemetery  near  Paris,  by  the  side  of  her  who  had  shared  his 
pure  love  of  liberty,  his  triumphs,  his  dungeon,  and  his 
undying  renown.  In  a  secluded  garden,  in  this  humble 
retreat,  beneath  the  shade  of  a  row  of  linden-trees,  between 
his  wife  and  his  daughter,  the  friend  of  Washington  and 
America  has  lain  down  to  his  last  repose. 

I  attempt  not,  fellow-citizens,  to  sketch  his  character.  I 
have  no  space,  no  capacity,  for  the  task.  I  have  endeavored 
to  run  over  —  superficially,  of  necessity  —  the  incidents  of 
his  life  ;  his  character  is  contained  in  the  recital. 

There  have  been  those  who  have  denied  to  Lafayette  the 
name  of  a  great  man.*  What  is  greatness  ?  Does  goodness 
belong  to  greatness,  and  make  an  essential  part  of  it  ?  If  it 
does,  who,  I  would  ask,  of  all  the  prominent  names  in  his- 
tory, has  run  through  such  a  career  with  so  little  reproach, 
iustly  or  unjustly  bestowed?  Are  military  courage  and 
conduct  the  measure  of  greatness  ?  Lafayette  was  intrusted 
by  Washington  with  all  kinds  of  service, — the  laborious 

*  See  note  at  the  end  of  the  Eulogy. 


520  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

and  complicated,  which  required  skill  and  patience ;  the 
perilous,  that  demanded  nerve  ;  and  we  see  him  keeping  up  a 
pursuit,  effecting  a  retreat,  out-mano3uvring  a  wary  adversary 
with  a  superior  force,  harmonizing  the  action  of  French 
regular  troops  and  American  militia,  commanding  an  assault 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet ;  and  all  with  entire  success  and 
brilliant  reputation.  Is  the  readiness  to  meet  vast  responsi- 
bility a  proof  of  greatness?  The  memoirs  of  Mr  Jefferson 
show  us,  as  we  have  already  seen,  that  there  was  a  moment, 
in  1789,  when  Lafayette  took  upon  himself,  as  the  head  of 
the  military  force,  the  entire  responsibility  of  laying  down 
the  basis  of  the  revolution.  Is  the  cool  and  brave  adminis- 
tration of  gigantic  power  a  mark  of  greatness  ?  In  all  the 
whirlwind  of  the  revolution,  and  when  as  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  National  Guard,  an  organized  force  of  three 
millions  of  men,  who,  for  any  popular  purpose,  needed  but  a 
word,  a  look,  to  put  them  in  motion, — and  he  their  idol, — 
we  behold  him  ever  calm,  collected,  disinterested  ;  as  free 
from  affectation  as  selfishness,  clothed  not  less  with  humility 
than  with  power.  Is  the  fortitude  required  to  resist  the  mul- 
titude pressing  onward  their  leader  to  glorious  crime  a  part 
of  greatness?  Behold  him,  the  fugitive  and  the  victim, 
when  he  might  have  been  the  chief  of  the  revolution.  Is 
the  solitary  and  unaided  opposition  of  a  good  citizen  to  the 
pretensions  of  an  absolute  ruler,  whose  power  was  as  bound- 
less as  his  ambition,  an  effort  of  greatness  ?  Read  the  letter 
of  Lafayette  to  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  refusing  to  vote  for  him 
as  consul  for  life.  Is  the  voluntary  return,  in  advancing 
years,  to  the  direction  of  affairs,  at  a  moment  like  that, 
when,  in  1815,  the  ponderous  machinery  of  the  French  em- 
pire was  flying  asunder,  —  stunning,  rending,  crushing  thou- 
sands on  every  side,  —  a  mark  of  greatness  ?  Contemplate 
Lafayette  at  the  tribune,  in  Paris,  when  allied  Europe  was 
thundering  at  its  gates,  and  Napoleon  yet  stood  in  his  des- 
peration and  at  bay.  Are  dignity,  propriety,  cheerfulness, 
unerring  discretion  in  new  and  conspicuous  stations  of  extra- 
ordinary delicacy,  a  sign  of  greatness  ?  Watch  his  progress 
in  this  country,  in  1824  and  1825;  hear  him  say  the  right 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  521 

word,  at  the  right  time,  in  a  series  of  interviews,  public  and 
private,  crowding  on  each  other  every  day,  for  a  twelve- 
month, throughout  the  Union,  with  every  description  of 
persons,  without  ever  wounding  for  a  moment  the  self-love 
of  others,  or  forgetting  the  dignity  of  his  own  position. 
Lastly,  is  it  any  proof  of  greatness  to  be  able,  at  the  age  of 
seventy-three,  to  take  the  lead  in  a  successful  and  bloodless 
revolution  ;  to  change  the  dynasty ;  to  organize,  exercise, 
and  abdicate  a  military  command  of  three  and  a  half  mil- 
lions of  men ;  to  take  up,  to  perform,  and  lay  down  the  most 
momentous,  delicate,  and  perilous  duties,  without  passion, 
without  hurry,  without  selfishness  ?  Is  it  great  to  disregard 
the  bribes  of  title,  office,  money ;  to  live,  to  labor,  and  suffer 
for  great  public  ends  alone  ;  to  adhere  to  principle  under  all 
circumstances  ;  to  stand  before  Europe  arid  America  conspic- 
uous, for  sixty  years,  in  the  most  responsible  stations,  the 
acknowledged  admiration  of  all  good  men? 

But  I  think  I  understand  the  proposition,  that  Lafayette 
was  not  a  great  man.  It  comes  from  the  same  school  which 
also  denies  greatness  to  Washington,  and  which  accords  it  to 
Alexander  and  Caesar,  to  Napoleon  and  to  his  conqueror. 
When  I  analyze  the  greatness  of  these  distinguished  men,  as 
contrasted  with  that  of  Lafayette  and  Washington,  I  find 
either  one  idea  omitted,  which  is  essential  to  true  greatness, 
or  one  included  as  essential,  which  belongs  only  to  a  low  con- 
ception of  greatness.  The  moral,  disinterested,  and  purely 
patriotic  qualities  are  wholly  wanting  in  the  greatness  of 
Alexander  and  Caesar  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  certain 
splendor  of  success  and  brilliancy  of  result  which,  with  the 
majority  of  mankind,  mark  them  out  as  the  great  men  of 
our  race.  But  not  only  are  a  high  morality  and  a  true  patri- 
otism essential  to  greatness,  but  they  must  first  be  renounced 
before  a  ruthless  career  of  selfish  conquest  can  begin.  I  pro- 
fess to  be  no  judge  of  military  combinations ;  but,  with  the 
best  reflection  I  have  been  able  to  give  the  subject,  I  perceive 
no  reason  to  doubt  that,  had  Lafayette,  like  Napoleon,  been 
by  principle  capable  of  hovering  on  the  edges  of  ultra-revo- 
lutionism, —  never  halting  enough  to  be  denounced ;  never 
VOL.  i.  66 


522  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

plunging  too  far  to  retreat,  but  with  a  cold  and  well-balanced 
selfishness,  sustaining  himself  at  the  head  of  affairs,  under 
each  new  phase  of  the  revolution,  by  the  compliances  suffi- 
cient to  satisfy  its  demands,  —  he  might  have  anticipated  the 
career  of  Napoleon.  At  three  different  periods,  he  had  it  in 
his  power,  without  usurpation,  to  take  the  government  into 
his  own  hands.  He  was  invited,  urged  to  do  so.  Had  he 
done  it,  and  made  use  of  the  military  means  at  his  command 
to  maintain  and  perpetuate  hib  power,  he  would  then,  at  the 
sacrifice  of  all  his  just  claims  to  the  name  of  great  and  good, 
have  reached  that  which  vulgar  admiration  alone  worships  — 
the  greatness  of  high  station  and  brilliant  success. 

But  it  belonged  to  the  greatness  of  Lafayette  that  he 
looked  down  on  greatness  of  the  false  kind.  He  learned  his 
lesson  in  the  scho.ol  of  Washington,  and  took  his  first  prac- 
tice in  victories  over  himself.  Let  it  be  questioned  by  the 
venal  apologists  of  time-honored  abuses ;  let  it  be  sneered  at 
by  national  prejudice  and  party  detraction ;  let  it  be  denied 
by  the  admirers  of  war  and  conquest,  by  the  idolaters  of 
success ;  —  but  let  it  be  gratefully  acknowledged  by  good 
men  —  by  Americans  —  by  every  man  who  has  sense  to  dis- 
tinguish character  from  events,  who  has  a  heart  to  beat  in 
concert  with  the  pure  enthusiasm  of  virtue. 

But  it  is  more  than  time,  fellow-citizens,  that  I  commit  the 
memory  of  this  great  and  good  man  to  your  unprompted 
contemplation.  On  his  arrival  among  you,  ten  years  ago, 
•when  your  civil  fathers,  your  military,  your  children,  your 
whole  population  poured  itself  out,  in  one  throng,  to  salute 
him  ;  when  your  cannons  proclaimed  his  advent  with  joyous 
salvos;  and  your  acclamations  were  answered,  from  steeple  to 
steeple,  by  festal  bells,  —  with  what  delight  did  you  not 
listen  to  his  cordial  and  affectionate  words —  "  I  beg  of  you 
all,  beloved  citizens  of  Boston,  to  accept  the  respectful  and 
warm  thanks  of  a  heart  which  has  for  nearly  half  a  century 
been  devoted  to  your  illustrious  city  !  "  That  noble  heart, 
—  to  which,  if  any  object  on  earth  was  dear,  that  object 
was  the  country  of  his  early  choice,  of  his  adoption,  and  his 
more  than  regal  triumph,  —  that  noble  heart  will  beat  no 


EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE.  523 

more  for  your  welfare.  Cold  and  still,  it  is  already  mingling 
with  the  dust.  While  he  lived,  you  thronged  with  delight 
to  his  presence  ;  you  gazed  with  admiration  on  his  placid 
features  and  venerable  form,  not  wholly  unshaken  by  the 
rude  storms  of  his  career  ;  and  now  that  he  is  departed,  you 
have  assembled  in  this  cradle  of  the  liberties  for  which,  with 
your  fathers,  he  risked  his  life,  to  pay  the  last  honors  to  his 
memory.  You  have  thrown  open  these  consecrated  portals 
to  admit  the  lengthened  train,  which  has  come  to  discharge 
the  last  public  offices  of  respect  to  his  name.  You  have 
hung  these  venerable  arches,  for  the  second  time  since  their 
erection,  with  the  sable  badges  of  sorrow.  You  have  thus 
associated  the  memory  of  Lafayette  in  those  distinguished 
honors,  which  but  a  few  years  since  you  paid  to  your  Adams 
and  Jefferson ;  and,  could  your  wishes  and  mine  have  pre- 
vailed, my  lips  would  this  day  have  been  mute,  and  the  same 
illustrious  voice  which  gave  utterance  to  your  filial  emotions 
over  their  honored  graves,  would  have  spoken  also,  for  you, 
over  him  who  shared  their  earthly  labors,  enjoyed  their 
friendship,  and  has  now  gone  to  share  their  last  repose,  and 
their  imperishable  remembrance. 

There  is  not,  throughout  the  world,  a  friend  of  liberty 
who  has  not  dropped  his  head  when  he  has  heard  that  La- 
fayette is  no  more.  Poland,  Italy,  Greece,  Spain,  Ireland, 
the  South  American  republics, — every  country  where  man 
is  struggling  to  recover  his  birthright,  —  have  lost  a  benefactor, 
a  patron,  in  Lafayette.  But  you.  young  men,  at  whose  com- 
mand I  speak,  for  you  a  bright  and  particular  loadstar  is 
henceforward  fixed  in  the  front  of  heaven.  What  young  man 
that  reflects  on  the  history  of  Lafayette, — that  sees  him  in 
the  morning  of  his  days  the  associate  of  sages,  the  friend  of 
Washington,  —  but  will  start  with  new  vigor  on  the  path  of 
duty  and  renown  ? 

And  what  was  it,  fellow-citizens,  which  gave  to  our  Lafay- 
ette his  spotless  fame  ?  The  love  of  liberty.  What  has 
consecrated  his  memory  in  the  hearts  of  good  men  ?  The 
love  of  liberty.  What  nerved  his  youthful  arm  with  strength, 
and  inspired  him,  in  the  morning  of  his  days,  with  sagacity 


524  EULOGY    ON    LAFAYETTE. 

and  counsel  ?  The  living  love  of  liberty.  To  what  did  he 
sacrifice  power,  and  rank,  and  country,  and  freedom  itself? 
To  the  horror  of  licentiousness,  —  to  the  sanctity  of  plighted 
faith,  —  to  the  love  of  liberty  protected  by  law.  Thus  the 
great  principle  of  your  revolutionary  fathers,  and  of  your  Pil- 
grim sires,  was  the  rule  of  his  life  —  the  love  of  liberty 
protected  by  law. 

You  have  now  assembled  within  these  celebrated  walls,  to 
perform  the  last  duties  of  respect  and  love,  on  the  birthday 
of  your  benefactor.  The  spirit  of  the  departed  is  in  high 
communion  with  the  spirit  of  the  place  —  the  temple  worthy 
of  the  new  name  which  we  now  behold  inscribed  on  its 
walls.  Listen,  Americans,  to  the  lesson  which  seems  borne 
to  us  on  the  very  air  we  breathe,  while  we  perform  these 
dutiful  rites !  Ye  winds,  that  wafted  the  Pilgrims  to  the 
land  of  promise,  fan,  in  their  children's  hearts,  the  love  of 
freedom !  Blood,  which  our  fathers  shed,  cry  from  the 
ground !  Echoing  arches  of  this  renowned  hall,  whisper 
back  the  voices  of  other  days  !  Glorious  Washington, 
break  the  long  silence  of  that  votive  canvas  !  Speak,  speak, 
marble  lips ;  *  teach  us  THE  LOVE  OF  LIBERTY  PROTECTED 
BV  LAW  ! 

*  The  bust  of  Lafayette  stood  upon  the  platform. 


NOTE. 


SEE   PAGE   519. 

THE  character  and  conduct  of  Lafayette,  at  the  most  critical  period  of 
his  career,  appear  to  me  correctly  appreciated  and  skilfully  described 
by  M.  Thiers,  in  the  following  passage  from  his  "  History  of  the  French 
Revolution : "  — 

"Lafayette,  born  of  an  ancient  family  which  had  remained  pure  amidst 
the  corruption  of  the  great,  endowed  with  a  sound  understanding  and  a 
resolute  purpose,  and  a  lover  of  true  glory,  had  tired  of  the  frivolities  of 
the  court  and  the  pedantic  discipline  of  our  armies.  His  own  country 
presenting  him  no  worthy  object  of  ambition,  he  decided  for  the  most  gen- 
erous enterprise  of  the  age,  and  started  for  America,  at  the  moment  thai 
intelligence  of  its  prostration  was  circulating  in  Europe.  He  there  com- 
bated by  the  side  of  Washington,  and  through  the  French  alliance  decided 
the  liberation  of  the  new  world.  Returned  home  with  a  European  reputa- 
tion, and  welcomed  as  a  novelty  at  court,  he  there  exhibited  the  simplicity 
and  liberality  of  an  American.  When  the  time  came  that  philosophy, 
which  had  been  regarded  by  the  idle  nobility  as  a  jeu  (Fesprit,  began  to 
demand  sacrifices  of  their  party,  Lafayette  almost  alone  persisted  in  his 
principles,  demanded  the  States  General,  contributed  powerfully  to  the 
union  of  the  orders,  and  was  named,  in  return,  commander-in-chief  of  the 
National  Guard.  Lafayette  wanted  the  passions  and  the  genius  which 
often  lead  to  the  abuse  of  power ;  but  with  an  equal  temper,  a  true  spirit, 
and  a  system  of  disinterestedness  from  which  he  never  swerved,  he  was 
especially  fitted  for  the  part  which  circumstances  imposed  upon  him  —  that 
of  causing  the  laws  to  be  executed.  Adored  by  his  troops,  without  having 
fascinated  them  by  victory,  —  calm  and  full  of  resource  in  the  midst  of  the 
ftiry  of  the  multitude,  —  he  maintained  order  with  indefatigable  vigilance. 
The  factions,  which  had  found  him  incorruptible,  impeached  his  ability,  because 
they  could  not  impeach  his  character.  He  was,  however,  mistaken  neither  as 
to  events  nor  men.  He  appreciated  the  court  and  the  partisan  leaders  at 
their  true  worth,  protected  them  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  without  confiding 
in  them,  and  struggled  often  without  hope  against  the  factions,  but  with 
the  constancy  of  a  man  who  feels  that  he  never  ought  to  abandon  the  com- 
monwealth, even  when  he  can  no  longer  hope  to  be  useful  to  it"  —  Histoire 
de,  la  Rivolution  Franpaise,  par  M.  A.  Thiers.  Chap.  III. 

(525) 


THE  BATTLE   OF  LEXINGTON.* 


FELLOW-CITIZENS  : 

AT  the  close  of  sixty  years,  we  commemorate  the  eventful 
scenes  of  the  opening  revolution.  We  have  come  together 
to  celebrate  the  affecting  incidents  which  have  placed  the 
name  of  this  beautiful  village  on  the  first  page  of  the  history 
of  our  independence.  The  citizens  of  a  prosperous  and  pow- 
erful republic,  we  come  to  pay  the  last  honors  to  the  memory 
of  those  who  offered  themselves  up,  on  this  spot,  the  first 
costly  sacrifice  in  the  cause  of  American  liberty.  In  the  day 
of  our  peace  and  safety,  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  richest 
abundance  of  public  and  private  blessings,  we  have  met  to- 
gether to  summon  up,  in  grateful  recollection,  the  images 
of  that  night  of  trial,  of  fearful  anticipation,  of  stern  resolve, 
and  of  that  morning  of  blood,  which,  to  the  end  of  time,  will 
render  the  name  of  Lexington  sacred  to  the  heart  of  the 
American  freeman. 

Sixty  years  have  passed  away,  —  two  full  returns  of  the 
period  assigned  by  the  common  consent  of  mankind  to  one 
of  our  transitory  generations.  I  behold  around  me  a  few  — 
alas !  how  few !  —  of  those  who  heard  the  dismal  voice  of 
the  alarm-bell,  on  the  nineteenth  of  April,  1775,  and  the 
sharp,  angry  hiss  of  the  death  volleys  from  the  hostile  lines. 
Venerable  men !  we  gaze  upon  you  with  respectful  emotion. 
You  have  reached  an  age  allotted  to  the  smallest  portion  of 
our  race,  and  your  gray  hairs,  under  any  circumstances, 
would  be  entitled  to  our  homage.  As  the  survivors  of  the 

*  Oration  delivered  at  Lexington,  19th  (20th)  April,  1835,  by  request  of 
the  citizens  of  that  place. 

(526) 


THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON.  527 

militia  of  Lexington,  who,  on  the  nineteenth  of  April,  1775, 
were  enrolled  in  defence  of  the  rights  of  America,  and  obeyed 
the  alarm  which  called  you  to  protect  them,  we  regard  you 
as  objects  at  once  of  admiration  and  gratitude.  But  when 
we  reflect  that  you,  a  small  and  venerable  remnant  of  those 
who  first  took  the  field  in  the  dawn  of  the  revolution,  have 
been  spared,  not  merely  to  see  that  revolution  brought  to  a 
triumphant  close,  but  to  witness  the  growth  of  the  country 
to  its  present  palmy  height  of  prosperity  and  power,  we  feel 
that  you  are  marked  out  by  a  peculiar  Providence,  above  all 
the  rest  of  your  fellow-citzens.  But  where,  O,  where  are 
your  brave  associates  ?  Seven  of  them,  who,  full  of  life,  and 
vigor,  and  patriotic  daring,  stood  side  by  side  with  you  sixty 
years  ago,  are  gathered  —  what  is  mortal  of  them  —  in  that 
mournful  receptacle.  Others  laid  down  their  lives  for  their 
country  in  the  hard-fought  and  honorable  fields  of  the  revo- 
lutionary war.  The  greater  part  have  stolen  away,  one  by 
one,  and  lie  beneath  the  scattered  hillocks  of  yonder  grave- 
yard. Twelve  only  survive. — ten  alone  are  present,  —  to 
unite  with  us  in  the  touching  rites  of  this  honored  anniver- 
sary. May  the  happy  contrast  in  your  own  existence  on  the 
great  day  we  commemorate,  and  on  this  its  sixtieth  return, 
and  in  the  position  and  fortunes  of  our  beloved  and  common 
country,  prove  an  ample  compensation  for  your  anxieties 
and  perils,  and  fill  the  close  of  your  days  with  peace 
and  joy.* 

Fellow-citizens  of  Lexington,  you  are  discharging  a  filial, 
pious  duty.  The  blood  which  wet  these  sods  on  the  day 
you  celebrate,  must  not  sink  uncommemorated  into  the  soil. 
It  is  your  birthright  —  your  heritage  ;  the  proudest  you  pos- 
sess. Its  sacred  memory  must  be  transmitted  by  your  citi- 

*  See,  in  note  A,  the  roll  of  Captain  Parker's  company  of  Lexington  mili- 
tia. The  following  are  the  names  of  the  survivors,  four  of  whom  were 
seated  on  the  platform  from  which  this  address  was  spoken  —  Dr  Joseph 
Fiske,  Messrs  Daniel  Mason,  Benjamin  Locke,  William  Munroe,  Jonathan 
Harrington,  Ebenezer  Simonds,  Jonathan  Loring,  John  Hosmer,  Isaac 
Durant,  Josiah  Reed.  Messrs  Solomon  Brown  and  Ehenezer  Parker  were 
absent 


528  THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGlOJN. 

zens,  from  father  to  son,  to  the  end  of  time.  We  come  to 
join  you  in  this  solemn  act  of  commemoration.  Partakers 
of  the  blessings  for  which  your  fathers  laid  down  their  lives, 
we  come  to  join  you  in  these  last  affecting  obsequies.  And 
when  all  now  present  shall  be  passing  —  passed  —  from  the 
stage ;  when,  sixty  years  hence,  we,  who  have  reached  the 
meridian  of  life,  shall  have  been  gathered  to  our  fathers,  and 
a  few  only  of  these  little  children  shall  survive,  changed  into 
what  we  now  behold  in  the  gray  heads  and  venerable  forms 
before  us,  let  us  hope  that  it  may  at  least  be  said  of  us,  that 
we  felt  the  value  of  the  principles  to  which  the  day  is  conse- 
crated, and  the  cost  at  which  they  were  maintained. 

We  perform  a  duty  which  is  sanctioned  by  reason  and 
justice.  It  is  the  spontaneous  impulse  of  the  heart  to  award 
the  tribute  of  praise  and  admiration  to  those  who  have  put 
every  thing  to  risk,  and  sacrificed  every  thing  in  a  great 
public  cause  ;  who  have  submitted  to  the  last  dread  test  of 
patriotism,  and  laid  down  their  lives  for  their  country.  In 
the  present  case,  it  is  doubly  warranted  by  the  best  feelings 
of  our  nature.  We  do  not  come  to  weave  fresh  laurels  for 
the  hero's  wreath,  to  extol  the  renowned,  or  to  add  new  in- 
cense to  the  adulation  which  is  ever  offered  up  at  the  shrine 
of  the  conqueror ;  but  to  give  the  humble  man  his  due  ;  to 
rescue  modest  and  untitled  valor  from  oblivion  ;  to  record  the 
names  of  those  whom  neither  the  ambition  of  power,  the 
hope  of  promotion,  nor  the  temptation  of  gain,  —  but  a  plain, 
instinctive  sense  of  patriotic  duty. — called  to  the  field. 

Nor  is  it  our  purpose  to  rekindle  the  angry  passions, 
although  we  would  fain  revive  the  generous  enthusiasm  of 
the  day  we  celebrate.  The  boiling  veins,  the  burning  nerves, 
the  almost  maddened  brain,  which  alone  could  have  encoun- 
tered the  terrors  of  that  day,  have  withered  into  dust,  as  still 
and  cold  as  that  with  which  they  have  mingled.  There  is  no 
hostile  feeling  in  that  sacred  repository.  No  cry  for  revenge 
bursts  from  its  peaceful  enclosure.  Sacred  relics  !  ye  have 
not  come  up,  from  your  resting-place  in  yonder  graveyard, 
on  an  errand  of  wrath  or  hatred.  Ye  have  but  mo  red  a  little 
nearer  to  the  field  of  your  glory,  to  plead  that  your  final 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON.         529 

resting-place  may  be  on  the  spot  where  you  fell;  to  claim  the 
protection  of  the  sods  which  you  once  moistened  with  your 
blood.  It  is  a  reasonable  request.  There  is  not  an  American 
who  hears  me,  I  am  sure,  who  would  profane  the  touching 
harmony  of  the  scene  by  an  unfriendly  feeling  ;  and  if  there 
is  an  Englishman  present  who  carries  an  Anglo-Saxon  heart 
in  his  bosom,  he  will  be  among  the  last  to  grudge  to  thene 
poor  remains  of  gallant  foes  the  honors  we  this  day  pay  to 
their  memory.  Though  they  fell  in  this  remote  transatlantic 
village,  they  stood  on  the  solid  rock  of  the  old  liberties  of 
England,  and  struck  for  freedom  in  both  hemispheres. 

Fellow-citizens !  the  history  of  the  revolution  is  familiar 
to  you.  You  are  acquainted  with  it,  in  the  general  and  in  its 
details.  You  know  it  as  a  comprehensive  whole,  embracing 
within  its  grand  outline  the  settlement  and  the  colonization 
of  the  country,  —  the  development,  maturity,  and  rupture  of 
the  relations  between  Great  Britain  and  America.  You  know 
it  in  the  controversy  carried  on  for  nearly  a  hundred  and 
fifty  years  between  the  representatives  of  the  people  and  the 
officers  of  the  crown.  You  know  it  in  the  characters  of  the 
great  men  who  signalized  themselves  as  the  enlightened  and 
fearless  leaders  of  the  righteous  and  patriotic  cause.  You 
know  it  in  the  thrilling  incidents  of  the  crisis,  when  the 
appeal  was  made  to  arms.  You  know  it,  —  you  have  studied 
it,  —  you  revere  it,  as  a  mighty  epoch  in  human  affairs  ;  a 
great  era  in  that  order  of  Providence,  which,  from  the  strange 
conflict  of  human  passions  and  interests,  and  the  various  and 
wonderfully  complicated  agency  of  the  institutions  of  men  in 
society,  —  of  individual  character,  of  exploits,  discoveries, 
commercial  adventure,  the  discourses  and  writings  of  wise 
and  eloquent  men,  —  educes  the  progressive  civilization  of 
the  race.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  is  scarcely  possible 
to  approach  the  subject  in  any  direction,  with  a  well-grounded 
hope  of  presenting  it  in  new  lights,  or  saying  any  thing  in 
which  this  intelligent  audience  will  not  run  before  me,  and  an- 
ticipate the  words  before  they  drop  from  my  lips.  But  it  is  a 
theme  that  can  never  tire  nor  wear  out.  God  grant  that 
the  time  may  never  come  when  those  who,  at  periods  how- 
VOL.  L  67 


530        THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON. 

ever  distant,  shall  address  you  on  the  nineteenth  of  April, 
shall  have  any  thing  wholly  new  to  impart.  Let  the  talc  be 
repeated  from  father  to  son,  till  all  its  thrilling  incidents  are 
as  familiar  as  household  words,  and  till  the  names  of  the 
brave  men  who  reaped  the  bloody  honors  of  the  nineteenth 
of  April,  1775,  are  as  well  known  to  us  as  the  names  of  those 
who  form  the  circle  at  our  firesides. 

The  events  of  the  day  we  commemorate,  of  course,  derive 
their  interest  from  their  connection  with  that  struggle  for 
constitutional  liberty  which  dates  from  the  settlement  of  the 
country  ;  and  which  is,  beyond  question,  the  most  important 
topic  in  the  history  of  free  government.  It  presents  to  us  a 
spectacle  worthy  of  the  deepest  meditation,  —  full  of  solemn 
warning,  and  of  instruction  not  yet  exhausted.  We  are,  at 
times,  almost  perplexed  with  the  phenomena  which  pass 
before  us.  We  see  our  ancestors  —  a  people  of  singular 
gravity  of  character,  not  turbulent  nor  impracticable,  imbued 
with  an  hereditary  love  of  order  and  law,  and  of  a  temper 
signally  loyal  —  engaged  in  a  course  of  almost  uninterrupted 
opposition  to  the  authority  of  a  government  which  they  pro- 
fessed themselves  at  all  times  bound  to  obey.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  see  the  British  government,  under  all  administrations, 
—  whether  animated  by  liberal  principles,  or  the  reverse,  — 
adopting  measures  and  pursuing  a  policy  towards  the  North 
American  colonies  which  excited  discontent  and  resistance. 
It  is  not  till  after  careful  scrutiny  that  we  find  the  solution  of 
the  problem  in  a  truth  which  —  though  our  fathers,  some  of 
them  at  least,  unquestionably  felt  its  reality  —  was  never 
professed  in  any  stage  of  the  contest  till  the  declaration  of 
independence  ;  and  then  not  as  a  general  axiom,  but  as  a 
proposition  true  in  the  then  present  case,  viz.,  the  inherent 
incongruity  of  colonial  government  with  the  principles  of 
constitutional  liberty.  Such  a  government  —  involving,  as  it 
almost  of  necessity  does,  the  distance  of  the  seat  of  power  from 
the  colony  —  a.  veto  on  the  colonial  legislation  —  an  appeal  from 
the  colonial  justice  —  a  diversion  of  the  colonial  resources  to 
objects  not  necessarily  connected  with  the  welfare  of  the 
people  — together  with  the  irritation  produced  by  the  presence 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON.         531 

of  men  in  high  office  not  appointed  by  those  who  are  obliged  to 
submit  to  their  authority  —  seems,  in  its  very  nature,  incon- 
sistent with  the  requirements  of  constitutional  liberty,  either 
in  the  colony  or  the  mother  country.  It  is  but  half  the  mis- 
chief of  the  colonial  system,  that  it  obstructs  the  growth  of 
freedom  in  the  colony  ;  it  favors  the  growtli  of  arbitrary 
power  in  the  mother  country.  It  may  be  laid  down  as  the 
moral  of  the  long  and  varied  struggle  which  was  brought  to 
a  crisis  on  this  spot,  on  the  nineteenth  of  April,  1775,  that  a 
colonial  government  can  neither  be  exercised  on  principles 
of  constitutional  liberty,  without  gross  inconsistency,  nor 
submitted  to  by  a  free  people  possessing  numbers  and  re- 
sources which  authorize  resistance. 

The  truth  of  this  doctrine  shines  brighter  and  brighter  from 
each  successive  page  of  our  colonial  history.  The  very 
genius  of  the  British  constitution  —  the  love  of  liberty,  which 
was  our  fathers'  inheritance  —  the  passionate  aversion  to 
arbitrary  power,  which  drove  them  into  banishment  from  the 
pleasant  fields  of  England  —  unfitted  them  for  their  colonial 
position  and  its  duties.  For  this  reason,  the  cares  of  the 
mother  country  were  as  wisely  bestowed  on  the  colonies  as 
those  of  the  huntsman  in  the  ancient  drama,  who  nursed  the 
lion's  whelp  in  his  bosom,  and  brought  him  up  as  the  playmate 
of  his  children.  It  was  the  nature,  not  the  vice  of  the  noble 
animal,  that,  tame  and  gentle  as  a  lamb  at  the  beginning,  he 
grew  up  to  the  strength  and  boldness  of  a  lion,  impatient  of 
restraint,  indignant  at  injury,  and  ready,  at  the  first  opportu- 
nity, to  bound  off  to  his  native  woods.* 

From  this  condition  of  things,  it  resulted  that  the  states- 
men on  both  sides  the  water,  —  as  well  in  England  as  in 
America,  —  who  took  a  lead  in  public  affairs,  were,  to  use 
the  language  of  modern  politics,  in  a  false  position,  striving 
to  do  what  could  not  be  done  ;  to  tax  constitutionally  with- 
out a  representation,  and  to  preserve  allegiance  in  despite  of 
everlasting  opposition.  It  was  one  consequence  of  this  un- 
natural state  of  things,  that  the  real  ground  of  the  discontents 

*  uEschyl.  Agamemn.  720 


532  THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON. 

was  continually  misapprehended  ;  that  they  were  ascribed  to 
temporary,  local,  and  personal  causes,  and  not  to  the  inherent 
nature  of  the  process  which  was  going  on,  and  of  the  impos- 
sibility of  a  cordial  union  of  elements  so  discordant.  This 
is  peculiarly  visible  in  the  writings  of  Governor  Hutchinson. 
This  valuable  historian  was  on  the  stage  for  the  entire  gen- 
eration preceding  the  revolution.  For  more  than  thirty  years 
before  it  broke  out,  he  was  a  political  leader  in  Massachusetts. 
From  the  close  of  the  Seven  Years'  war  to  the  year  1775, 
he  was  probably  the  most  confidential  adviser  of  the  crown  ; 
and,  for  the  chief  part  of  the  time,  the  incumbent  of  the 
highest  offices  in  its  gift.  He  has  brought  the  history  of  his 
native  state  down  to  the  very  moment  when,  on  the  eve  of 
the  war,  he  left  America,  never  to  return.  Learned,  saga- 
cious, wary,  conciliatory,  and  strongly  disposed,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  evade  the  difficulties  of  his  position,  no  man  had 
better  opportunities  of  knowing  the  truth  ;  and,  after  making 
proper  allowance  for  his  prejudices,  few  are  entitled  to  greater 
credit  in  their  statements.  And  yet,  with  all  the  sources  of 
information  in  his  reach,  and  all  the  opportunities  enjoyed  by 
him  to  arrive  at  an  enlarged  conception  of  the  nature  of  the 
controversy,  Governor  Hutchinson  seriously  traces  the  origin 
of  the  revolution  to  the  fact  that  he  himself  was  appointed 
chief  justice,  instead  of  James  Otis,  who  aspired  to  the 
place.* 

But  a  more  signal  instance  of  this  delusion  was  of  much 
older  date  than  the  opposition  to  the  stamp  act.  The  gov- 
ernment party  never  understood  the  character  of  the  people, 
nor  the  nature  of  the  contest ;  and  a  most  memorable  proof 
of  this  is  found  in  an  act  of  provincial  legislation,  at  the 
early  period  of  1694.  In  that  year  a  step  was  taken  by  the 
court  party,  which  showed,  in  a  most  extraordinary  manner, 
the  extent  of  their  infatuation.  Before  this  time,  it  had  been 
the  practice  in  many  of  the  country  towns  to  elect,  as  their 

*  From  an  anecdote  preserved  by  Dr  Eliot,  (Biog.  Diet  Art.  Hutchin- 
son,)  it  would  appear,  on  the  authority  of  Judge  Trowbridge,  that  Otis  also 
viewed  the  question  in  the  same  connection  with  his  own  personal  relations 
to  it 


THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON.  533 

representatives  to  the  General  Court,  citizens  of  Boston,  who, 
either  from  being  natives  of  the  towns,  or  for  any  other 
cause,  possessed  the  confidence  of  those  by  whom  they  were 
thus  chosen.  A  number  of  members  of  this  class  having 
voted  against  an  address  to  his  majesty,  praying  the  continu- 
ance of  Sir  William  Phipps  in  office,  the  court  party  immedi- 
ately brought  forward  and  carried  a  law,  forbidding  the 
election  of  any  person  as  a  representative  who  did  not  reside 
in  the  town  by  which  he  was  chosen.  Provision  was  thus 
made  by  law  to  compel  the  towns,  even  if  otherwise  disin- 
clined to  do  so,  to  take  an  interest  in  public  affairs  ;  and  tc 
secure  from  their  own  bosom  a  constant  and  faithful  repre- 
sentation of  the  yeomanry.  This  was  a  court  measure, 
designed  to  disqualify  a  few  popular  citizens  of  Boston  who 
had  been  elected  for  the  country  ;  but  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  any  thing  else  contributed  more  to  carry  the  great 
constitutional  controversy  home  to  the  doors  of  every  citizen 
of  the  community,  and  to  link  together  the  town  and  coun- 
try by  the  strongest  bonds  of  political  sympathy. 

I  need  but  allude  to  the  measures  by  which  the  revolution 
was  at  last  brought  on.  The  Boston  port  bill  was  a  proof 
that  the  British  ministry  had  determined  to  force  matters  to 
extremities ;  and  it  awakened  the  liveliest  sympathy  in  the 
fate  of  Boston  from  one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other. 
The  acts  of  Parliament  passed  in  1774,  for  altering  the  mode 
of  summoning  juries  and  transporting  obnoxious  persons  to 
England  for  trial,  were  direct  violations  of  the  charter,  and 
indicated  the  dangerous  policy  of  striking  at  the  lives  of 
individuals  under  color  of  legal  procedure.  Nothing  pro- 
duces so  great  an  exasperation  as  this  policy,  and  no  policy 
is  so  weak ;  for  the  most  insignificant  individual  is  made 
important  by  proscription,  while  few  are  so  gifted  but  their 
blood  will  prove  more  eloquent  than  their  pens  or  their 
tongues. 

These  threatening  steps  on  the  part  of  the  ministry  did 
but  hasten  the  preparations  for  resistance  on  the  part  of  the 
people  of  America.  A  Continental  Congress  was  organized 
in  1 774,  and  a  Provincial  Congress  met,  about  the  same  time, 


534         THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON. 

in  Massachusetts.  Before  the  close  of  that  year,  the  latter 
body  had  made  arrangements  for  a  levy  of  twelve  thousand 
men  in  Massachusetts,  as  her  share  of  twenty  thousand  to  be 
raised  by  the  New  England  colonies,  and  one  fourth  of  the 
number  to  act  as  minute  men.  By  the  same  authority, 
magazines  were  established,  arms  and  munitions  of  war  pro- 
cured, and  supplies  of  all  kinds  provided  for  a  state  of  actual 
service.  The  greatest  attention  was  paid  to  drilling  and 
exercising  the  troops,  particularly  in  the  portions  of  the  prov- 
ince immediately  contiguous  to  Concord  and  Worcester, 
where  the  military  depots  were  established.  A  committee 
of  safety  and  a  committee  of  supplies  were  clothed  with  the 
chief  executive  power.  General  officers  —  principally  the 
veterans  of  the  French  war  —  were  appointed  to  command 
the  troops.  As  the  royal  forces  in  Boston  were  in  the  habit 
of  making  excursions  into  the  neighboring  country  for  parade 
and  exercise,  it  became  necessary  to  decide  the  question  when 
they  should  be  met  with  forcible  resistance.  It  was  resolved 
by  the  Provincial  Congress  that  this  should  be  done  when- 
ever the  troops  came  out  with  baggage,  ammunition,  and 
artillery,  and  other  preparations  for  hostile  action.  Having 
thus  made  provision  for  the  worst,  the  Provincial  Congress 
of  Massachusetts  adjourned  early  in  December,  1774,  to  give 
the  members  an  opportunity  to  keep  the  stated  thanksgiving 
with  their  families;  and  among  the  causes  of  gratitude  to 
Almighty  God,  even  at  this  dark  and  anxious  period,  which 
are  set  forth  in  the  proclamation  of  the  Provincial  Congress, 
they  call  upon  the  people  to  be  devoutly  thankful  for  the 
union  of  sentiment  which  prevailed  so  remarkably  in  the 
colonies. 

The  situation  of  Massachusetts,  at  that  time,  presents  a 
most  striking  and  instructive  spectacle.  It  contained  a  popu- 
lation not  far  from  three  hundred  thousand,  arrested  in  the 
full  career  of  industrious  occupation  in  all  the  branches  of 
civilized  pursuit.  Their  charter  was  substantially  abrogated 
by  the  new  laws.  Obedience  was  every  where  withheld 
from  the  arbitrary  powers  assumed  by  the  government.  The 
proclamations  of  the  governor  were  treated  with  silent  disre- 


THE    BATTLE    OP     LEXINGTON.  535 

gard.  The  port  of  Boston  is  shut,  and  with  it  much  of  the 
commerce  of  the  province  is  annihilated  ;  for  the  neighboring 
seaport  towns  vie  with  each  other  in  a  generous  refusal  to  take 
advantage  of  the  distresses  of  the  capital.  The  courts  are 
closed,  and  the  innumerable  concerns,  which,  in  an  ordinary 
state  of  things,  require  the  daily  and  hourly  interposition  of 
the  law,  are  placed  under  the  safe  guardianship  of  the  public 
sentiment  of  a  patriotic  community.  The  powers  assumed 
by  the  committees  of  safety  and  supplies,  and  by  the  Provin- 
cial Congress,  are  obeyed,  with  a  ready  deference,  never 
yielded,  in  the  most  loyal  times,  to  the  legal  commands  of 
the  king's  governors.  The  community,  in  a  word,  is  reduced 
—  no,  is  elevated —  to  a  state  of  nature  ;  to  a  state  of  nature, 
in  a  high  and  solemn  sense,  in  which  the  feeling  of  a  great 
impending  common  danger,  and  the  consciousness  of  an 
exalted  and  resolute  common  purpose,  take  the  place,  at  once 
and  with  full  efficacy,  of  all  the  machinery  of  constitutional 
government.  It  is  thus  that  a  people,  fit  for  freedom,  may 
get  the  substance  before  the  forms  of  liberty.  Luxury  dis- 
appears ;  a  patriotic  frugality  accumulates  the  scattered 
elements  of  the  public  wealth  ;  feuds  are  reconciled ;  differ- 
ences compromised ;  the  creditor  spares  his  debtor ;  the 
debtor  voluntarily  acquits  his  obligations ;  an  unseen  spirit 
of  order,  resource,  arid  power  walks,  like  an  invisible  angel, 
through  the  land ;  and  the  people,  thoughtful,  calm,  and 
collected,  await  the  coining  storm. 

The  minds  of  the  people  throughout  the  country  had 
become  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  great  principles  of  the 
contest.  These  principles  had  for  years  been  discussed  at 
the  primary  meetings  in  Massachusetts;  and  the  municipal 
records  of  many  of  the  towns,  at  that  period,  are  filled  with 
the  most  honorable  proofs  of  the  intelligence  and  patriotism 
of  their  citizens.  The  town  of  Lexington  stands  second  to 
none  in  an  early,  strenuous,  and  able  vindication  of  the  rights 
of  the  colonies.  In  the  year  1765,  a  very  conclusive  exposi- 
tion of  the  question  on  the  stamp  act  was  adopted  by  the 
town,  in  the  form  of  instructions  to  their  representative  in 
the  General  Court.  It  is  a  paper  not  inferior  to  the  best  of 


536  THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON. 

the  day.  In  1767,  the  town  expressed  its  unanimous  con- 
currence in  the  measures  adopted  by  Boston  to  prevent  the 
consumption  of  foreign  commodities.  In  1768,  a  preamble 
and  resolutions  were  adopted  by  the  town,  in  which  the  right 
of  Great  Britain  to  tax  America  is  argued  with  extraordinary 
skill  and  power.  In  1772,  their  representative  was  furnished 
with  instructions,  expressed  in  the  most  forcible  terms,  to 
seek  a  redress  of  the  daily  increasing  wrongs  of  the  people. 
The  object  of  these  instructions  is  declared  to  be,  that  "  thus, 
whether  successful  or  not,  succeeding  generations  may  know 
that  we  understood  our  rights  and  liberties,  and  were  neither 
afraid  nor  ashamed  to  assert  or  maintain  them ;  and  that  we 
ourselves  may  have  at  least  this  consolation,  in  our  chains, 
that  it  was  not  through  our  neglect  that  this  people  were 
enslaved;"*  In  1773,  resolutions  of  the  most  decided  and 
animated  character  were  unanimously  passed,  relative  to  the 
duty  on  tea.  At  numerous  town  meetings,  towards  the  close 
of  1774,  m  asures  were  taken  for  a  supply  of  ammunition, 
the  purchase  and  distribution  of  arms,  and  other  measures  of 
military  defence.  A  representative  was  chosen  to  the  Provin- 
cial Congress,  and  the  town's  tax  directed  to  be  paid,  not  to 
the  royal  receiver-general,  but  to  the  treasurer  appointed  by 
the  Provincial  Congress. 

Although  the  part  thus  taken  by  Lexington  was  in  full 
accordance  with  the  course  pursued  by  many  other  towns  in 
the  province,  there  is  nothing  invidious  in  the  remark,  that 
the  documents  to  which  I  have  referred,  and  in  which  the 
principles  and  opinions  of  the  town  are  embodied,  have  few 
equals,  and  no  superiors,  among  the  productions  of  that  class. 
They  are  well  known  to  have  proceeded  from  the  pen  of  the 
former  venerable  pastor  of  the  church  in  this  place,  the 
Reverend  Jonas  Clark,  who,  for  many  years  previous  to  the 
revolution,  and  to  the  close  of  his  life,  exercised  a  well- 
deserved  ascendency  in  the  public  concerns  of  the  town.  To 
the  older  part  of  the  citizens  of  Lexington  it  were  needless 
to  describe  him  ;  they  remember  too  well  the  voice  to  which 

*  Lexington  town  records,  p.  209. 


THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON.  537 

within  these  walls,  they  listened  so  long  with  reverence  and 
delight.  Even  to  those  who  are  too  young  to  have  known 
him,  the  tradition  of  his  influence  is  familiar.  Mr  Clark 
was  of  a  class  of  citizens  who  rendered  services  second  to  no 
other  in  enlightening  and  animating  the  popular  mind  on  the 
great  questions  at  issue,  —  I  mean  the  patriotic  clergy  of  New 
England.  The  circumstances  under  which  this  portion  of 
the  country  was  settled,  gave  a  religious  complexion  to  the 
whole  political  system.  The  vigorous  growth  of  transatlantic 
liberty  was  owing,  in  no  small  degree,  to  the  fact,  that  its 
seed  was  planted  at  the  beginning  by  men  who  deemed  free- 
dom of  conscience  a  cheap  purchase  at  any  cost,  and  that  its 
roots  struck  deep  into  the  soil  of  Puritanism.  Mr  Clark  was 
eminent  in  his  profession  ;  a  man  of  practical  piety  ;  a  learned 
theologian ;  a  person  of  wide,  general  reading  ;  a  writer  per- 
spicuous, correct,  and  pointed,  beyond  the  standard  of  the 
day  ;  and  a  most  intelligent,  resolute,  and  ardent  champion 
of  the  popular  cause.  He  was  connected  by  marriage  with 
the  family  of  John  Hancock.  To  this  circumstance,  no 
doubt,  may  properly  be  ascribed  some  portion  of  his  interest 
in  the  political  movements  of  the  time ;  while,  on  the  mind 
of  Hancock,  an  intimacy  with  Mr  Clark  was  calculated  to 
have  a  strong  and  salutary  influence.  Their  connection  led 
to  a  portion  of  the  interesting  occurrences  of  the  nineteenth 
of  April,  1775.  The  soul-stirring  scenes  of  the  great  tragedy 
which  was  acted  out  on  this  spot  were  witnessed  by  Mr 
Clark,  from  the  door  of  his  dwelling  hard  by.  To  perpetuate 
their  recollection,  he  instituted,  the  following  year,  a  service 
of  commemoration.  He  delivered  himself  an  historical  dis- 
course of  great  merit,  which  was  followed,  on  the  returns  of 
the  anniversary,  till  the  end  of  the  revolutionary  war,  in  a 
series  of  addresses  in  the  same  strain,  by  the  clergy  of  the 
neighboring  towns.  Mr  Clark's  instructive  and  eloquent 
narrative,  in  the  appendix  to  the  discourse,  remains  to  this 
day  one  of  the  most  important  authorities  for  this  chapter  in 
the  history  of  the  revolution. 

It  may  excite  some  surprise  that  so  great  alacrity  was 
evinced  in  the  work  of  military  preparation  by  the  town  of 

VOL.  I. 


638  THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON. 

Lexington,  and  other  towns  similarly  situated  in  the  colonies. 
How  are  we  to  account  for  the  extraordinary  fact,  that  a 
village,  not  of  the  first  class  in  size,  and  not  in  any  respect 
so  circumstanced  as  to  require  its  citizens  to  stand  forth  in 
the  position  of  military  resistance,  should  have  taken  such 
prompt  and  vigorous  measures  of  a  warlike  character  ?  This 
is  a  fact  to  be  explained  by  a  recurrence  to  the  earlier  history 
of  the  colonies.  It  is  a  truth,  to  which  sufficient  attention 
has  not  perhaps  been  given  in  connection  with  the  history 
of  the  revolution,  that  in  the  two  preceding  wars  between 
Great  Britain  and  France,  the  colonies  had  taken  a  very 
active  and  important  part.  The  military  records  of  those 
wars,  as  far  as  the  province  of  Massachusetts  Bay  is  con- 
cerned, are  still  in  existence.  The  original  muster  rolls  are 
preserved  in  the  State  House  at  Boston.  I  have  examined  a 
great  many  of  them.  They  prove  that  the  people  of  Massa- 
chusetts, between  the  years  1755  and  1763,  performed  an 
amount  of  military  service  probably  never  exacted  of  any 
other  people  living  under  a  government  professing  to  be  free. 
Not  a  village  in  Massachusetts  but  sent  its  sons  to  lay  their 
bones  in  the  West  Indies,  in  Nova  Scotia,  and  the  Canadian 
wilderness.  Judge  Minot  states,  that  in  the  year  1757,  one 
third  part  of  the  effective  men  of  Massachusetts  were,  in 
some  way  or  other,  in  the  field,  and  that  the  taxes  imposed 
on  real  property  in  Boston  amounted  to  two  thirds  of  the 
income.  In  1759,  the  General  Court,  by  way  of  excusing 
themselves  to  Governor  Pownall  for  falling  short  of  the  mili- 
tary requisitions  of  that  year,  informed  him  that  the  military 
service  of  the  preceding  year  had  amounted  to  one  million 
of  dollars.  They  nevertheless  raised  that  year  six  thousand 
eight  hundred  men,  a  force  which  contributed  most  essen- 
tially to  the  achievement  of  the  great  object  of  the  campaign 
—  the  reduction  of  Quebec.  The  population  of  Massachu- 
setts and  Maine,  at  that  time,  might  have  been  half  the 
present  population  of  Massachusetts  ;  the  amount  of  taxable 
property  beyond  all  proportion  less.  Besides  the  hardships 
of  voluntary  service,  the  most  distressing  levies  were  made 
on  the  towns  by  impressment,  enforced  by  all  the  rigors  of 
martial  law. 


THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON.  539 

These  are  not  the  most  affecting  documents  in  our  archives, 
to  show  the  nature  of  that  school  of  preparation,  in  which 
the  men  of  1775  were  reared.  Those  archives  are  filled  with 
the  tears  of  desolate  widows  and  bereaved  parents.  After  the 
disastrous  capitulation  of  Fort  William  Henry,  in  1757,  the 
governor  of  Massachusetts  invited  those  who  had  relatives 
carried  into  captivity  among  the  Canadian  Indians,  to  give 
information  to  the  colonial  secretary,  that  order  might  be 
taken  for  their  redemption.  Many  of  the  original  returns  to 
this  invitation  are  on  file.  Touching  memorials !  Here  an 
aged  parent  in  Andover  transmits  the  name  of  his  "  dear  son," 
that  he  may  have  the  benefit  of  the  "  gracious  design  "  of 
the  government.  A  poor  widow  at  Newbury  states  that  her 
child,  who  was  made  captive  at  what  she  calls  "Rogers's 
great  fight,"  was  but  seventeen  years  old  when  he  left  her. 
And  old  Jonathan  Preble.  of  Maine,  whose  son  and  daughter- 
in-law  were  killed  by  the  Indians  at  Arrowsick  Island,  and 
six  of  their  children,  from  the  age  of  twelve  years  down  to 
three  months,  carried  into  captivity,  the  same  day,  "  makes 
bold,"  as  he  says,  to  send  up  the  sad  catalogue  of  their  names. 
He  apologizes  for  this  freedom,  on  the  ground  of  "having 
drank  so  deep  "  of  this  misery ;  and  then  apparently  reflect- 
ing that  this  was  too  tender  an  expression  for  an  official  paper, 
he  strikes  out  the  words,  and  simply  adds,  "  having  been  de- 
prived of  so  many  of  my  family."  The  original  paper,  with 
the  erasure  and  the  correction,  is  preserved. 

In  fact,  the  land  was  filled,  town  and  country,  —  and  in 
proportion  to  its  population,  no  town  more  than  Lexington, 
—  with  men  who  had  seen  service, — and  such  service  too! 
There  were  few  villages  in  this  part  of  the  province  which 
had  not  furnished  recruits  for  that  famous  corps  of  rangers 
which  was  commanded  by  Rogers,  and  in  which  Stark  served 
his  military  apprenticeship  —  a  corps  whose  duties  went  as 
far  beyond  the  rigors  of  ordinary  warfare,  as  that  is  more 
severe  than  a  holiday  parade.  Their  march  was  through  the 
untrodden  by-paths  of  the  Canadian  frontier.  The  half-tamed 
savage,  borrowing  from  civilization  nothing  but  its  madden- 
ing vices  and  destructive  weapons,  was  the  ranger's  sworn 


540         THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON. 

enemy.  Huntsman  at  once  and  soldier,  his  supply  of  pro- 
visions, on  many  of  his  excursions,  was  the  fortune  of  the 
chase,  and  a  draught  from  the  mountain  stream,  that  froze  as 
it  trickled  from  the  rocks.  Instead  of  going  into  quarters 
when  the  forest  put  on  its  sere  autumnal  uniform  of  scarlet 
and  gold,  winter  —  Canadian  winter  —  dreary  midwinter  — 
on  frozen  lakes,  through  ice-bound  forests,  from  which  the 
famished  deer,  chased  by  the  gaunt  wolf,  was  fain  to  fly  to 
the  settlements — called  the  poor  ranger  to  the  field  of  his 
duties.  Sometimes  he  descended  the  lake  on  skates ;  some- 
times he  marched  on  snow-shoes,  where  neither  baggage- 
wagon  nor  beast  of  burden  could  follow  him,  and  with  all 
his  frugal  store  laden  on  his  back.  Not  only  was  the  foe  he 
sought  armed  with  the  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife,  but  the 
tortures  of  the  fagot  and  the  stake  were  in  reserve  for  the 
prisoner,  who,  for  wounds,  or  distance,  or  any  other  cause, 
could  not  readily  be  sold  into  an  ignominious  slavery  among 
the  Canadian  French.  Should  I  relate  all  the  hardships  of 
this  service,  I  should  expect  almost  to  start  the  lid  of  that 
coffin,  —  for  it  covers  the  remains  of  at  least  one  brave  heart, 
who  could  bear  witness  to  their  truth.  Captain  Spikeman, 
who  fell  on  the  twenty-first  of  January,  1757,  raised  his 
company,  in  which  Stark,  I  believe,  was  a  lieutenant,  princi- 
pally in  this  neighborhood.  The  journal  of  General  Winslow 
contains  the  muster-roll,  and  I  find  there  the  names  of 
several  inhabitants  of  Lexington.  Edmund  Munroe  (after- 
wards, with  another  of  the  same  name,  killed  by  one  cannon- 
ball  at  the  battle  of  Monmouth)  was  of  the  staff  in  Rogers's 
regiment ;  and  Robert  Munroe,  whose  remains  are  gathered 
in  that  receptacle,  was  an  ensign  at  the  capture  of  Louisburg, 
in  1758.  There  could  not  have  been  less  than  twenty  or 
thirty  of  the  citizens  of  Lexington,  who  had  learned  the  art 
of  war  in  some  department  or  other  of  the  military  colonial 
service.  They  had  tasted  its  horrors  in  the  midnight  surprise 
of  the  savage  foe,  and  they  had  followed  the  banners  of  vic- 
tory under  the  old  provincial  leaders  —  Gridley,  and  Thomas, 
and  Ruggles,  and  Frye,  up  to  the  ramparts  of  Quebec.  No 
wonder  that  they  started  again  at  the  sound  of  the  trumpet : 


THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON.  541 

no  wonder  that  men,  who  had  followed  the  mere  summons 
of  allegiance  and  loyalty  to  the  shores  of  Lake  Champlain, 
and  the  banks  of  the  St  Lawrence,  should  obey  the  cry  of 
instinct,  which  called  them  to  defend  their  homes.  The 
blood  which  was  not  too  precious  to  be  shed  upon  the  plains 
of  Abraham,  in  order  to  wrest  a  distant  colony  from  the  do- 
minion of  France,  might  well  be  expected  to  flow  like  water, 
in  defence  of  all  that  is  dear  to  man. 

From  the  commencement  of  1775,  a  resort  to  extremities 
was  manifestly  inevitable ;  but  the  time  and  mode  in  which 
it  should  take  place  were  wrapped  in  solemn  uncertainty. 
The  patriots  of  the  highest  tone,  well  knowing  that  it  could 
not  be  avoided,  did  not  wish  it  postponed.  Warren  burned 
for  the  decisive  moment ;  young,  beloved,  gifted  for  a  splen- 
did career,  he  was  ready,  impatient  for  the  conflict.  The 
two  Adamses  and  Hancock  bore,  with  scarcely  suppressed 
discontent,  the  less  resolute  advances  of  some  of  their  asso- 
ciates ;  and  Q,uincy  wrote  from  London,  in  December,  1774, 
in  the  following  strain  of  devoted  patriotism :  "  Let  me  tell 
you  one  very  serious  truth,  in  which  we  are  all  agreed,  — 
your  countrymen  must  seal  their  cause  with  their  blood.  They 
must  now  stand  the  issue  ;  they  must  preserve  a  consistency 
of  character ;  THEY  MUST  NOT  DELAY  ;  they  must  [resist  to  the 
death,]  or  be  trodden  into  the  vilest  vassalage,  —  the  scorn, 
the  spurn  of  their  enemies,  a  by- word  of  infamy  among 
all  men !  " 

In  anticipation  of  this  impending  crisis,  the  measures  of 
military  preparation,  to  which  I  have  alluded,  were  taken. 
The  royal  governor  of  Massachusetts  (General  Gage)  had 
served  in  the  old  French  war,  and  did  not  undervalue  his 
adversary,  but  adopted  his  measures  of  preparation  as  against 
a  resolute  foe.  Officers  in  disguise  were  sent  to  Concord  and 
Worcester,  to  explore  the  roads  and  passes,  and  gain  informa- 
tion relative  to  the  provincial  stores.  At  Medford,  the  maga- 
zine was  plundered.  An  unsuccessful  attempt  was  made  to 
seize  the  artillery  at  Salem.  On  the  thirtieth  of  March, 
General  Gage  sent  eleven  hundred  men  out  of  Boston,  and 
threw  down  the  stone  walls  which  covered  some  of  the  passes 


642        THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON. 

in  the  neighborhood.  These  indications  sufficiently  showed 
that  an  attempt  to  destroy  the  provincial  stores  at  Concord 
and  Worcester  might  be  expected.  A  hostile  excursion  from 
Boston,  on  that  errand,  was  daily  anticipated,  for  some  time 
before  it  took  place ;  and  proper  measures  were  taken,  by 
stationing  two  persons  on  the  lookout,  in  all  the  neighbcring 
towns,  to  obtain  and  circulate  the  earliest  intelligence  of  the 
movement. 

In  anxious  expectation  of  the  crisis,  a  considerable  part  of 
the  people  of  Boston  sought  refuge  in  the  country.  Inclina- 
tion prompted  them  to  withdraw  themselves  from  beneath  the 
domination  of  what  was  now  regarded  as  a  hostile  military 
power  ;  and  patriotism  suggested  the  expediency  of  diminish- 
ing, as  far  as  possible,  the  number  of  those  who,  while  they 
remained  in  Boston,  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  royal  governor, 
and  held  as  hostages  for  the  submission  of  their  countrymen. 

In  conjunction  with  the  seizure  of  the  province  stores,  the 
arrest  of  some  of  the  most  prominent  of  the  patriotic  leaders 
was  threatened.  Hancock  and  Adams  had  been  often  desig- 
nated by  name,  as  peculiarly  obnoxious ;  and,  on  the  adjourn- 
ment of  the  Provincial  Congress,  a  strong  opinion  had  been 
expressed  by  their  friends  that  they  ought  not  to  return  to  the 
city.  Hancock  yielded  to  the  advice,  and  took  up  his  abode 
in  this  place,  —  the  spot  where  his  father  was  born,  —  where 
he  had  himself  passed  a  portion  of  his  childhood,  and  where 
he  found  in  his  venerable  relative,  Mr  Clark,  an  associate  of 
congenial  temper.  Beneath  the  same  hospitable  roof  Samuel 
Adams,  also,  found  a  cordial  welcome.  Thus,  my  friends, 
your  village  became  the  place  of  refuge  ;  and  your  fathers 
were  constituted  the  guardians  of  these  distinguished  pa- 
triots, at  a  moment  when  a  price  was  about  to  be  set  on  their 
heads. 

Samuel  Adams  and  John  Hancock  !  —  Do  you  ask  why 
we  should  pause  at  their  names  ?  Let  the  proclamation  of 
General  Gage  furnish  the  answer :  "  I  do  hereby,  in  his 
majesty's  name,  promise  his  most  gracious  pardon  to  all 
persons  who  shall  forthwith  lay  down  their  arms  and  return 
to  the  duties  of  peaceable  subjects,  excepting  only  from  the 


THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON.  543 

benefit  of  such  pardon  Samuel  Adams  and  John  Hancock, 
whose  offences  are  of  too  flagitious  a  nature  to  admit  of  any 
other  consideration  than  that  of  condign  punishment." 

The  flagitious  offences  of  Hancock  and  Adams  were  their 
early,  unrelaxing,  and  fearless  efforts  in  defence  of  the  rights 
of  American  freemen  ;  and  the  cordial  cooperation  of  these 
men  in  that  great  cause,  unlike  as  they  were  in  every  thing 
else,  is  one  of  the  most  pleasing  incidents  of  the  history  of 
the  revolution.  John  Hancock  would  have  been  the  spoiled 
child  of  fortune  if  he  had  not  been  the  chosen  instrument  of 
Providence.  His  grandfather  was  for  fifty-four  years  the 
pastor,  with  great  authority,  of  this  church  ;  and  his  father, 
afterwards  minister  of  Braintree,  was  born  in  Lexington. 
John  Hancock  was  left  an  orphan  at  the  age  of  seven  years, 
and  from  that  period  passed  much  of  his  time  in  this  village, 
and  received  a  part  of  his  education  at  the  town  school. 
After  leaving  college,  he  entered  the  family  and  became 
associated  in  the  business  of  his  uncle,  —  a  distinguished  citi- 
zen and  a  wealthy  merchant  in  Boston,  —  who  shortly  after- 
wards died,  bequeathing  to  John  Hancock  a  fortune  of  seventy 
thousand  pounds  sterling  —  the  largest  estate,  probably,  which 
had  ever  been  amassed  in  the  colonies.  He  was  thus  left,  at 
twenty-seven  years  of  age,  without  parents,  brought  up  in 
luxury,  distinguished  for  personal  appearance,  voice,  manners, 
and  address,  the  master  of  a  princely  estate.  He  seemed,  as 
it  were,  marked  out  by  destiny  to  pursue  the  tempting  path 
of  royal  favor.  He  was  accused  of  ambition.  But  what  had 
he  to  gain  by  joining  the  austere  ranks  of  those  who  were 
just  commencing  the  great  battle  of  liberty  ?  He  was  charged 
with  a  love  of  display.  But  no  change  of  public  affairs  could 
improve  his  private  fortunes ;  and  he  had  but  to  seek  them 
through  the  paths  of  loyalty,  and  all  the  honors  of  the  empire, 
pertaining  in  any  measure  to  his  position,  were  at  his  com- 
mand, on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic.  The  tempter  did 
whisper  to  him  that  he  might  lead  a  gay  and  luxurious  exist- 
ence within  the  precincts  of  the  court.  But  his  heart  was 
beneath  yonder  roof,  where  his  father  was  born.  In  the 
midst  of  all  the  enjoyments  and  temptations  of  London,  he 


544  THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON. 

remembered  the  school  where  he  had  first  learned  to  read  his 
Bible  ;  and  exclaimed,  amidst  the  seductions  of  the  British 
metropolis,  "  If  I  forget  thee,  O  New  England!  may  my  right 
hand  forget  her  cunning." 

He  witnessed  the  coronation  of  George  III. ;  and  it  was 
the  immediate  spectacle  of  a  life  of  court  attendance  that 
taught  John  Hancock  to  prize  the  independence  of  a  Boston 
merchant,  —  of  an  American  citizen.  He  returned  from 
England,  to  plunge,  heart  and  soul,  into  the  contest  for  prin- 
ciple and  for  liberty.  He  scattered  his  princely  wealth  like 
ashes.  He  threw  his  property  into  the  form  in  which  it 
would  be  least  productive  to  himself  and  most  beneficial  to 
the  industrious  and  suffering  portion  of  the  community.  He 
built  ships  at  a  time,  not  when  foreign  trade  was  extending 
itself,  but  when  new  restrictions  were  daily  laid  upon  the 
commerce  of  America,  and  the  shipwrights  were  starving  ; 
and  he  built  houses  when  real  estate  was  rapidly  sinking  in 
value.  He  shunned  personal  danger  as  little  as  he  spared  his 
purse.  On  the  retirement  of  Peyton  Randolph  from  the 
chair  of  Congress,  in  May,  1775,  he  was  called  by  the  mem- 
bers of  that  venerable  body  to  preside  in  their  councils  ;  and 
in  that  capacity  he  had  the  singular  good  fortune  to  sign  the 
commission  of  George  Washington,  and  the  immortal  honor 
to  affix  his  name  first  to  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
To  the  solid  qualities  of  character,  he  added  all  the  graces  of 
the  old  school  ;  and,  as  if  to  meet  the  taunts  which  were 
daily  pointed  at  the  rustic  simplicity  of  the  American  cause, 
the  enemies  of  the  country  beheld  in  its  patriotic  president  an 
elegance  of  appearance  and  manners  unsurpassed  at  their  own 
court.  When  the  rapid  depreciation  of  continental  paper  had 
greatly  increased  the  distresses  of  the  people,  Hancock  in- 
structed his  agents  at  home  to  receive  that  poor  discredited 
currency,  with  which  his  country  was  laboring  to  carry  on 
the  war,  in  payment  of  every  thing  due  to  him  ;  and  when 
asked  his  opinion  in  Congress  of  the  policy  of  an  assault  upon 
Boston,  he  recommended  the  measure,  although  it  would  lay 
half  his  property  in  ashes.  During  all  the  distresses  which 
preceded  the  commencement  of  hostilities,  while  Boston  was 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON.         545 

sinking  under  the  privations  of  the  port  bill,  Hancock  not 
only  forbore  the  enforcement  of  his  debts,  but  literally  shared 
his  diminished  income  with  his  suffering  townsmen.  Provi- 
dence rewarded  his  warm-hearted  and  uncalculating  patriotism 
with  the  highest  honors  of  the  country ;  enabled  him  to  build 
up  his  impaired  estate  out  of  the  ashes  of  the  revolution  ;  and 
gave  him  a  place  as  bright  and  glorious  in  the  admiration  of 
mankind,  "  as  if."  to  use  the  words  of  Daniel  Webster,  "  his 
name  had  been  written  in  letters  of  light  on  the  blue  arch  of 
heaven,  between  Orion  and  the  Pleiades." 

Samuel  Adams  was  the  counterpart  of  his  distinguished 
associate  in  proscription.  Hancock  served  the  cause  with  his 
liberal  opulence,  Adams  with  his  incorruptible  poverty.  His 
family,  at  times,  suffered  almost  for  the  comforts  of  life,  when 
he  might  have  sold  his  influence  over  the  councils  of  America 
for  uncounted  gold,  —  when  he  might  have  emptied  the  royal 
treasury,  if  he  would  have  betrayed  his  country.  Samuel 
Adams  was  the  last  of  the  Puritans,  —  a  class  of  men  to  whom 
the  cause  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic,  is  mainly  indebted  for  the  great  progress  which  it  has 
made  for  the  last  two  hundred  years  ;  and  when  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  was  signed,  that  dispensation  might  be 
considered  as  brought  to  a  close.  At  a  time  when  the  new 
order  of  things  was  inducing  laxity  of  manners  and  a  de- 
parture from  the  ancient  strictness,  Samuel  Adams  clung  with 
greater  tenacity  to  the  wholesome  discipline  of  the  fathers. 
His  only  relaxation  from  the  business  and  cares  of  life  was  in 
the  indulgence  of  a  taste  for  sacred  music,  for  which  he  was 
qualified,  by  the  possession  of  a  melodious  voice  and  of  a  soul 
solemnly  impressed  with  religious  sentiment.  Resistance  of 
oppression  was  his  vocation.  On  taking  his  second  degree, 
he  maintained  the  noble  thesis,  that  it  is  "  lawful  to  resist 
the  supreme  magistrate,  if  the  commonwealth  cannot  other- 
wise be  preserved."  Thus,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  — 
twenty  years  before  the  stamp  act  was  thought  of,  —  Samue1 
Adams,  from  the  cloisters  of  Harvard  College,  announced  in 
two  lines  the  philosophy  of  the  American  revolution.  His 
after  life  showed  that  his  practice  was  not  below  his  theory. 
VOL.  i.  69 


646         THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON. 

On  leaving  college,  he  devoted  himself  for  some  years  to 
the  profession  of  divinity  ;  but  he  gave  himself  afterwards 
wholly  to  the  political  service  of  the  country.  He  was 
among  the  earliest  and  ablest  writers  on  the  patriotic  side. 
He  caught  the  plain,  downright  style  of  the  commonwealth 
in  Great  Britain.  More  than  most  of  his  associates,  he  under- 
stood the  efficacy  of  personal  intercourse  with  the  people.  It 
was  Samuel  Adams,  more  than  any  other  individual,  who 
brought  the  question  home  to  their  bosoms  and  firesides ;  not 
by  profound  disquisitions  and  elaborate  reports,  —  though 
these  in  their  place  were  not  spared,  — but  in  the  caucus,  the 
club-room,  at  the  Green  Dragon,  in  the  ship-yards,  in  actual 
conference,  man  to  man  and  heart  to  heart.  He  was  forty- 
six  years  of  age  when  he  first  came  to  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives. There  he  was.  of  course,  a  leader  ;  a  member 
of  every  important  committee  ;  the  author  of  many  of  the 
ablest  and  boldest  state  papers  of  the  time.  But  the  throne 
of  his  ascendency  was  in  Faneuil  Hall.  As  each  new  meas- 
ure of  arbitrary  power  was  announced  from  across  the  Atlantic, 
or  each  new  act  of  menace  and  violence,  on  the  part  of  the 
officers  of  the  government  or  of  the  army,  occurred  in  Bos- 
ton, its  citizens,  oftentimes  in  astonishment  and  perplexity, 
rallied  to  the  sound  of  his  voice  in  Faneuil  Hall.  There,  as 
from  the  crowded  gallery  or  the  moderator's  chair,  he  ani- 
mated, enlightened,  fortified,  and  roused  the  admiring  throng, 
he  seemed  to  gather  them  together  beneath  the  segis  of  his 
indomitable  spirit,  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her 
wings.  With  his  namesake,  John  Adams,  Warren,  and  Han- 
cock, he  perceived  the  inevitable  necessity  of  striking  for 
independence  a  considerable  time  before  it  was  generally 
admitted.  In  some  branches  of  knowledge  he  was  excelled 
by  other  men  ;  but  one  thing  he  knew  thoroughly,  and  that 
was  liberty.  He  began  with  it  early,  studied  it  long,  and  pos- 
sessed the  whole  science  of  it.  He  knew  it,  class  and  order, 
genus  and  species,  root  and  branch.  Instead  of  quailing, 
his  spirit  mounted  and  mantled  with  the  approach  of  the 
crisis.  Chafed  and  fretted  with  the  minor  irritations  of  the 
«arly  stages  of  the  contest,  he  rose  to  a  religious  tranquillity. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON.         547 

as  the  decisive  hour  drew  nigh.  In  all  the  excitement  and 
turmoil  of  the  anxious  days  that  preceded  the  explosion,  he 
was  of  the  few  who  never  lost  their  balance.  He  was  thought- 
ful, serious  almost  to  the  point  of  sternness,  resolute  as 
fate  ;  but  cheerful  himself,  and  a  living  spring  of  animation 
to  others.  He  looked  forward  to  the  impending  struggle  as 
the  consummation  of  a  great  design,  of  which  not  man.  but 
God,  had  laid  the  foundation  stone  on  the  rock  of  Plymouth ; 
and  when,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  you  now  commemo- 
rate, the  volleys  of  fire-arms  from  this  spot  announced  to  him 
and  his  companion  in  the  neighboring  field  that  the  great 
battle  of  liberty  had  begun,  he  threw  up  his  arms,  and  ex- 
claimed, in  a  burst  of  patriotic  rapture,  "  O,  what  a  glorious 
morning  is  this  !  " 

Yes,  fellow-citizens,  such  was  the  exclamation  of  Samuel 
Adams,  when  a  thousand  British  troops  were  in  possession 
of  your  village,  and  seven  of  your  citizens  were  struggling 
in  the  agonies  of  death.  He  saw  that  the  morning  sun, 
whose  first  slanting  beams  were  dancing  on  the  tops  of 
the  hostile  bayonets,  would  not  more  surely  ascend  the 
heavens,  than  the  sun  of  independence  would  arise  on 
the  clouded  fortunes  of  his  country.  The  glory  he  foresaw 
has  come  to  pass.  Two  generations  attest  the  truth  of  his 
high-souled  prophecy.  And  you,  "  village  Hampdens,  who, 
with  dauntless  breast "  withstood,  not  "  the  petty  tyrant  of 
your  fields,"  but  the  dread  and  incensed  sovereign  of  a 
mighty  empire,  when  he  came  in  his  embattled  hosts  to  sub- 
due you, — you,  who  sealed  your  devotion  to  the  cause  by  the 
last  great  attestation  of  sincerity,  —  your  blood  has  not  sunk 
unprofitably  into  the  ground !  If  your  spirits  are  conscious 
of  the  honors  we  now  pay  your  relics,  you  behold  in  the 
wide-spread  prosperity  of  your  country  the  high  justification 
of  that  generous  impulse,  which  led  you,  on  that  glorious 
morning,  to  the  field  of  death ! 

On  Saturday,  the  fifteenth  of  April,  the  Provincial  Congress, 
then  in  session  at  Concord,  adjourned  to  meet  again  on  the 
tenth  of  May.  It  is  probable  that  the  intelligence  of  this 
event  had  not  reached  General  Gage  in  Boston,  when,  on  the 


548        THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON. 

same  day,  he  commenced  his  arrangements  for  the  projected 
expedition.  The  grenadiers  and  light  infantry  were  relieved 
from  their  several  stations  in  Boston,  and  concentrated  on  the 
Common,  under  pretence  of  learning  a  new  military  exercise. 
At  midnight  following,  the  boats  of  the  transport  ships,  which 
had  been  previously  repaired,  were  launched,  and  moored 
under  the  sterns  of  the  men-of-war  in  the  harbor.  Dr  War- 
ren, on  his  way  home  from  the  Congress  on  Saturday,  had 
expressed  to  the  family  of  Mr  Clark  his  firm  persuasion,  that 
the  moment  was  at  hand  when  blood  would  flow.  He  justly 
regarded  the  military  movements  of  the  following  night  as  a 
confirmation  of  this  opinion,  and  despatched  Colonel  Paul 
Revere  the  next  day  to  this  place,  to  bring  the  intelligence  to 
Messrs  Hancock  and  Adams.  They  naturally  inferred,  from 
the  magnitude  of  the  preparations,  that  their  own  seizure 
could  not  be  the  sole  object,  and  advised  the  committee  of 
safety,  then  sitting  at  West  Cambridge,  to  order  the  distribu- 
tion, into  the  neighboring  towns,  of  the  stores  collected  at 
Concord.  Colonel  Paul  Revere,  on  his  return  to  town  on 
Sunday,  concerted  with  his  friends  in  Charlestown,  that  two 
(ights  should  be  shown  from  the  steeple  of  the  North  Church, 
if  the  British  troops  should  cross  in  boats  to  Cambridge,  and 
one,  if  they  should  march  out  over  Boston  Neck. 

Wednesday,  the  nineteenth,  was  fixed  upon  as  the  eventful 
day.  Ten  or  twelve  British  officers  were  sent  out  the  day 
before,  on  horseback,  who  dined  at  Cambridge,  and  at  night- 
fall scattered  themselves  on  the  roads  to  Concord,  to  prevent 
the  communication  of  intelligence  from  the  town.  Early 
information  of  this  fact  was  brought  to  this  place  by  Solomon 
Brown,*  of  Lexington,  who  returned  late  from  Boston  mar- 
ket on  the  afternoon  of  the  eighteenth,  and  passed  them  and 
was  passed  by  them  several  times,  as  they  sometimes  rode 
forward  or  fell  back  on  the  road.  A  despatch  to  the  same 
effect  was  also  sent  by  Mr  Gerry,  of  the  committee  of  safety, 


*  Mr  Brown  is  still  living,  but,  from  the  distance  of  his  place  of  resi- 
dence, was  not  able  to  attend,  with  the  other  survivors  of  Captain  Parker'i 
company,  (eleven  in  number,)  the  celebration  of  the  anniversary. 


THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON.  549 

at  West  Cambridge,  to  Mr  Hancock,  whose  written  answer, 
still  preserved,  evinces  the  calmness  and  self-possession  which 
he  maintained  at  the  approaching  crisis.  In  consequence  of 
this  information,  a  guard  of  eight  men,  under  the  late  Colonel 
William  Mimroe,  then  a  sergeant  in  the  Lexington  company, 
was  marched,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  to  Mr  Clark's 
house,  for  the  protection  of  Messrs  Adams  and  Hancock.  At 
the  same  time,  Messrs  Sanderson,  Loring,*  and  Brown  were 
sent  up  towards  Concord,  to  watch  the  movement  of  the 
officers.  They  came  upon  them  unawares  in  Lincoln,  and 
fell  into  their  hands.  About  midnight,  Colonel  Paul  Revere, 
who  had  left  Boston,  by  direction  of  Dr  Warren,  as  soon  as 
the  movement  of  the  troops  was  discovered,  and  had  passed 
by  the  way  of  Charlestown,  (where  he  narrowly  escaped 
two  British  officers,)  through  Medford  and  West  Cambridge, 
giving  the  alarm  at  every  house  on  the  way,  arrived  at  Mr 
Clark's  with  despatches  from  Dr  Warren  for  Hancock  and 
Adams.  Passing  on  towards  Concord,  Revere  also  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  British  officers  in  Lincoln,  but  not  till  he 
had  had  an  opportunity  of  communicating  his  errand  to 
young  Dr  Prescott,  of  Concord,  whom  he  overtook  on  the 
road.  At  the  moment  Revere  was  arrested  by  the  officers, 
Prescott  succeeded  in  forcing  his  way  through  them,  and  thus 
carried  the  alarm  to  Concord.  The  intelligence  sent  by  Dr 
Warren  to  Messrs  Hancock  and  Adams  purported  that  "a 
large  body  of  the  king's  troops  (supposed  to  be  a  brigade  of 
twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  men)  had  embarked  in  boats  from 
Boston." 

After  the  detention  of  an  hour  or  two  in  Lincoln,  the  British 
officers  were  informed  by  Colonel  Revere  of  all  the  measures 
he  had  taken  to  alarm  the  country,  and  deemed  it  expedient 
for  their  own  safety  to  hasten  back  towards  Boston.  On  their 
way  towards  Lexington,  they  put  many  questions  to  their 
prisoners,  as  to  the  place  where  Messrs  Adams  and  Hancock 
were  residing.  As  they  approached  Lexington,  the  alarm- 
bell  was  ringing,  and  a  volley  was  fired  by  some  of  the 

•  Mr  Loring  was  present  on  the  stage  at  the  delivery  of  this  Address 


550  THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON. 

militia,  then  assembling  on  the  green.  Upon  this,  they  has- 
tened their  flight,  and  just  as  they  entered  the  village,  their 
prisoners  escaped  from  them.  Colonel  Revere  repaired  to  the 
house  of  Mr  Clark,  and  the  general  apprehensions  relative  to 
his  distinguished  guests  having  been  confirmed  by  the  inter- 
rogatories of  the  British  officers,  Messrs  Hancock  and  Adams 
were  persuaded,  with  great  difficulty,  to  withdraw  from  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  road.  On  the  return  of  Colonel 
Revere  to  the  centre  of  the  village,  he  met  Captain  Thaddeus 
Bowman  coming  up  the  road,  in  full  gallop,  with  the  news 
that  the  British  troops  were  at  hand. 

It  was  at  this  time  between  four  and  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Three  messengers  had  been  sent  down  the  road, 
to  ascertain  the  approach  of  the  British  army.  The  first  two 
brought  no  tidings,  and  the  troops  were  not  discovered  by  the 
third  (Captain  Bowman)  till  they  were  far  advanced  into  the 
town.  They  had  been  put  in  motion  about  seven  hours  be- 
fore on  Boston  Common.  They  crossed  in  boats,  near  the 
spot  where  the  court-house  now  stands  in  East  Cambridge ; 
and  there  took  up  their  march,  from  eight  hundred  to  one 
thousand  strong,  grenadiers,  light  infantry,  and  marines. 
They  crossed  the  marshes,  inclining  to  their  right,  and  came 
into  the  Charlestown  and  West  Cambridge  road,  near  the  foot 
of  Prospect  Hill.  It  was  a  fine,  moonlight,  chilly  night. 
No  hostile  movement  was  made  by  them  till  they  reached 
West  Cambridge.  The  committee  of  safety  had  been  in 
session  in  that  place,  at  Wetherbee's  tavern ;  and  three  of  its 
distinguished  members,  Vice-President  Gerry,  Colonel  Lee, 
and  Colonel  Orne,  had  taken  up  their  lodgings  for  the  night 
at  the  same  house.  The  village,  having  been  alarmed  by 
Colonel  Revere,  was  on  the  alert  at  the  approach  of  the  army ; 
and  Messrs  Gerry,  Lee,  and  Orne  had  risen  from  their  beds 
and  gone  to  their  windows  to  contemplate  the  strange  spec 
tacle.  As  the  troops  came  up  on  a  line  with  the  house,  a 
sergeant's  guard  was  detached  to  search  it ;  and  the  members 
of  the  committee  had  but  a  moment  to  escape  by  flight  into 
the  adjacent  fields. 

It  was  now  perceived  by  Colonel  Smith,  who  commanded 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON.         551 

the  British  detachment,  that  the  country,  on  all  sides,  was  in 
a  slate  of  alarm.  The  news  had  spread  in  every  direction, 
both  by  the  way  of  Charlestown  and  Roxbury.  The  lights 
in  the  North  Church  steeple  had  given  the  signal  before  the 
troops  had  fairly  embarked.  It  was  propagated,  by  the  alarm- 
bell,  from  village  to  village  ;  volleys  from  the  minute  men 
were  heard  in  every  direction  ;  and  as  fast  as  light  and  sound 
could  travel,  the  news  ran  through  Massachusetts,  I  might 
say  through  New  England ;  and  every  man  as  he  heard  it 
sprang  to  his  arms.  As  a  measure  of  precaution,  under  these 
circumstances,  Colonel  Smith  detached  six  companies  of  light 
infantry  and  marines,  to  move  forward  under  Major  Pitcairne 
and  take  possession  of  the  bridges  at  Concord,  in  order  to  cut 
off  the  communication  with  the  interior  of  the  country.  At 
the  same  time,  also,  he  sent  back  to  General  Gage  and 
asked  a  reenforcement,  a  piece  of  forethought  which  saved 
all  that  was  saved  of  the  fortunes  of  that  day.  Before 
these  detached  companies  could  reach  Lexington,  the  of- 
ficers already  mentioned  were  hastening  down  the  road ; 
and  falling  in  with  Major  Pitcairne,  informed  him  that  five 
hundred  men  were  assembling  on  Lexington  green  to  resist 
the  troops.  In  consequence  of  this  exaggerated  account,  the 
advance  party  was  halted,  to  give  time  for  the  grenadiers  to 
come  up. 

And  thus,  fellow-citizens,  having  glanced  at  all  the  other 
movements  of  this  memorable  night,  we  are  prepared  to  con- 
template that  which  gives  interest  to  them  all.  The  com- 
pany assembled  on  this  spot,  and  which  had  been  swelled  by 
the  British  officers  to  five  hundred,  consisted  in  reality  of 
sixty  or  seventy  of  the  militia  of  Lexington.  On  the  receipt 
of  the  information  of  the  excursion  of  the  officers  and  the 
movement  of  the  troops,  a  guard  had  been  set,  as  we  have 
seen,  at  the  house  of  Mr  Clark,  the  evening  before.  After 
the  receipt  of  the  intelligence  brought  by  Revere,  the  alarm- 
bell  was  rung,  and  a  summons  sent  round  to  the  militia  of 
the  place  to  assemble  on  the  green.  This  was  done  by 
direction  of  the  commander  of  the  company,  Captain  John 
Parker,  an  officer  of  approved  firmness  and  courage.  He 


552  THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON. 

had  probably  served  in  the  French  war,  and  gave  many 
proofs,  on  this  trying  occasion,  of  a  most  intrepid  spirit. 
About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  drum  beat  to  arms, 
the  roll  was  called,  and  about  one  hundred  and  thirty 
answered  to  their  names  ;  some  of  them,  alas !  —  whose  ashes, 
now  gathered  in  that  depository,  invoke  the  mournful  honors 
of  this  day,  —  for  the  last  time  on  earth.  Messengers  were 
sent  down  the  road,  to  bring  intelligence  of  the  troops ;  and 
the  men  were  ordered  to  load  with  powder  and  ball.  One  of 
them  soon  returned  with  the  report  that  there  were  no  troops 
to  be  seen.  In  consequence  of  this  information,  as  the  night 
was  chilly,  in  order  to  spare  the  men  already  harassed  by  the 
repeated  alarms  which  had  been  given,  and  to  relieve  the 
anxiety  of  their  families,  the  militia  were  dismissed,  but 
ordered  to  await  the  return  of  the  other  expresses  sent  down 
to  gain  a  knowledge  of  the  movements  of  the  enemy,  and 
directed  to  be  in  readiness  at  the  beat  of  the  drum.  About 
half  the  men  sought  refuge  from  the  chill  of  the  night  in 
the  public  house  still  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  green ;  the 
residue  retired  to  their  homes  in  the  neighborhood.  One  of 
the  messengers  was  made  prisoner  by  the  British,  who  took 
effectual  precautions  to  arrest  every  person  on  the  road. 
Benjamin  Wellington,  hastening  to  the  centre  of  the  village, 
was  intercepted  by  their  advanced  party,  and  was  the  first 
person  seized  by  the  enemy  in  arms  in  the  revolutionary  war. 
In  consequence  of  these  precautions,  the  troops  remained 
undiscovered  till  within  a  mile  and  a  half  of  this  place,  and 
when  there  was  scarce  time  for  the  last  messenger,  Captain 
Thaddeus  Bowman,  to  return  with  the  tidings  of  their  cer- 
tain approach. 

A  new  —  the  last  —  alarm  is  now  given  ;  the  bell  rings  ; 
guns  are  fired  in  haste  on  the  green ;  the  drum  beats  to  arms. 
The  militia,  within  reach  of  the  sound,  hasten  to  obey  the 
call,  sixty  or  seventy  in  number,  and  are  drawn  up  in  order 
a  very  short  distance  in  rear  of  the  spot  on  which  we  stand. 
The  British  troops,  hearing  the  American  drum,  regard  it  as 
a  challenge,  and  are  halted  at  the  distance  of  one  hundred 
and  sixty  rods  to  load  their  guns.  At  the  sight  of  this 


THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON.  553 

preparation,  a  few  of  the  militia,  on  the  two  extremities  of 
the  line,  naturally  feeling  the  madness  of  resisting  a  force 
outnumbering  their  own  ten  to  one,  and  supposed  to  be  near 
twice  as  large  as  it  was,  showed  a  disposition  to  retreat. 
Captain  Parker  ordered  them  to  stand  their  ground,  threat- 
ened death  to  any  man  who  should  fly,  but  directed  them 
not  to  fire  unless  first  fired  upon.  The  commanders  of  the 
British  forces  advance  some  rods  in  front  of  their  troops. 
With  mingled  threats  and  oaths  they  bid  the  Americans  lay 
down  their  arms  and  disperse,  and  call  to  their  own  troops, 
now  rushing  furiously  on  —  the  light  infantry  on  the  right  of 
the  church  in  which  we  are  now  assembled,  and  the  grena- 
diers on  the  left  —  to  fire.  The  order,  not  being  followed 
with  instant  obedience,  is  renewed  with  imprecations  j  the 
officers  discharge  their  pistols ;  and  the  foremost  platoon  fires 
over  the  heads  of  the  Americans.  No  one  falls ;  and  John 
Munroe,  standing  next  to  a  kinsman  of  the  same  family 
name,  calmly  observed  that  they  were  firing  nothing  but 
powder.  Another  general  volley,  aimed  with  fatal  precision, 
succeeds.  Ebenezer  Munroe  replied  to  the  remark  just  made, 
that  something  more  than  powder  was  then  fired,  as  he  was 
shot  himself  in  the  arm.  At  the  same  moment,  several 
dropped  around  them,  killed  and  wounded.  Captain  Parker 
now  felt  the  necessity  of  directing  his  men  to  disperse ;  but 
it  was  not  till  several  of  them  had  returned  the  British  fire, 
and  some  of  them  more  than  once,  that  this  handful  of  brave 
men  were  driven  from  the  field. 

Of  this  gallant  little  company,  seven  were  killed  and  ten 
wounded,  a  quarter  part  at  least  of  the  number  drawn  up, 
and  a  most  signal  proof  of  the  firmness  with  which  they 
stood  the  British  fire.  Willingly  would  I  do  justice  to  the 
separate  merit  of  each  individual  of  this  heroic  band ;  but 
tradition  has  not  furnished  us  the  means.  A  few  interesting 
anecdotes  have,  however,  been  preserved.  Jedediah  Munroe 
was  one  of  the  wounded.  Not  disheartened  by  this  circum- 
stance, instead  of  quitting  the  field,  he  marched  with  his 
company,  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy,  to  Concord,  and  was 
VOL.  i.  70 


554  THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON. 

killed  in  the  afternoon.  Ebenezer  Mimroe,  Jim.,  received 
two  wounds,  and  a  third  ball  through  his  garments.  William 
Tidd.  the  second  in  command  of  the  company,  was  pursued 
by  Major  Pitcairne,  on  horseback,  np  the  north  road,  with 
repeated  cries  to  stop,  or  he  was  a  dead  man  !  Having  leaped 
the  fence,  he  discharged  his  gim  at  his  pursuer,  and  thus 
compelled  him  in  turn  to  take  flight.  Robert  Munroe  was 
killed,  with  Parker,  Muzzy,  and  Jonathan  Harrington,  on  or 
near  the  line  where  the  company  was  formed.  Robert  Munroe 
had  served  in  the  French  wars.  He  was  the  standard-bearer  of 
his  company  at  the  capture  of  Louisburg,  in  1758.  He  now 
lived  to  see  set  up  for  the  first  time  the  banner  of  his  coun- 
try's independence.  He  saw  it  raised  amidst  the  handful  of 
his  brave  associates ;  alas  that  he  was  struck  down,  without 
living,  like  you,  venerable  survivors  of  that  momentous  day, 
to  behold  it  —  as  it  dallies  with  the  wind,  and  scorns  the  sun 
—  at  the  head  of  the  triumphant  hosts  of  America!  All 
hail  to  the  glorious  ensign !  Courage  to  the  heart,  and 
strength  to  the  hand,  to  which,  in  all  time,  it  shall  be 
intrusted !  May  it  forever  wave  in  honor,  in  unsullied 
glory,  and  patriotic  hope,  on  the  dome  of  the  Capitol,  on  the 
country's  strongholds,  on  the  tented  plain,  on  the  wave- 
rocked  topmast !  Wheresoever  on  the  earth's  surface  the 
eye  of  the  American  shall  behold  it,  may  he  have  reason  to 
bless  it !  On  whatsoever  spot  it  is  planted,  there  may  free- 
dom have  a  foothold,  humanity  a  brave  champion,  and 
religion  an  altar !  Though  stained  with  blood  in  a  righteous 
cause,  may  it  never,  in  any  cause,  be  stained  with  shame  ! 
Alike,  when  its  gorgeous  folds  shall  wanton,  in  lazy  holiday 
triumph,  on  the  summer  breeze,  and  its  tattered  fragments  be 
dimly  seen  through  the  clouds  of  war,  may  it  be  the  joy  and 
pride  of  the  American  heart !  First  raised  in  the  cause  of 
right  and  liberty,  in  that  cause  alone  may  it  forever  spread 
out  its  streaming  blazonry  to  the  battle  and  the  storm  !  First 
raised  in  this  humble  village,  and  since  borne  victoriously 
across  the  continent  and  on  every  sea,  may  virtue,  and  free- 
dom, and  peace  forever  follow  where  it  leads  the  way! 


THE    BATTLE    OP    LEXINGTON.  555 

The  banner  which  was  borne  on  this  spot,  by  a  village  hero,* 
was  not  that  whose  glorious  folds  are  now  gathered  round  the 
sacred  depository  of  the  ashes  of  his  brave  companions,  as 
they  lie  before  us.  He  carried  the  old  provincial  flag  of 
Massachusetts  Bay.  As  it  had  once  been  planted  in  triumph 
on  the  walls  of  Louisburg,  Quebec,  and  Montreal,  it  was 
now  raised  in  a  New  England  village,  among  a  band  of  brave 
men,  some  of  whom  had  followed  it  to  victory  in  distant 
fii?.ds,  and  now  rallied  beneath  it,  in  the  bosom  of  their 
homes,  determined,  if  duty  called  them,  to  shed  their  blood 
in  its  defence.  May  Heaven  approve  the  omen !  The 
ancient  standard  of  Massachusetts  Bay  was  displayed  for  the 
confederating  colonies  before  the  STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  OF 
THE  UNION  had  been  flung  to  the  breeze.  Should  the  time 
come  (which  God  avert !)  when  that  sacred  banner  shall  be 
rent  in  twain,  may  Massachusetts,  who  first  raised  her  stand- 
ard in  the  cause  of  United  America,  be  the  last  by  whom  it 
is  deserted !  As  many  of  her  children,  who  first  raised  that 
standard  on  this  spot,  fell  gloriously  in  its  defence,  so  may 
the  last  son  of  Massachusetts,  to  whom  it  shall  be  intrusted, 
not  yield  it  but  in  the  mortal  agony ! 

Harrington's  was  a  cruel  fate.  He  fell  in  front  of  his  own 
house,  on  the  north  of  the  Common.  His  wife,  at  the  win- 
dow, saw  him  fall,  and  then  start  up,  the  blood  gushing  from 
his  breast.  He  stretched  out  his  hands  towards  her,  as  if  for 
assistance,  and  fell  again.  Rising  once  more  on  his  hands 
and  knees,  he  crawled  across  the  road  towards  his  dwelling. 
She  ran  to  meet  him  at  the  door,  but  it  was  to  see  him  expire 
at  her  feet.  Hadley  and  Brown  were  pursued,  and  fell  after 
they  had  left  the  Common.  Porter,  of  Woburn,  was  unarmed. 
He  had  been  taken  prisoner  on  the  road,  before  the  hostile 
force  reached  Lexington.  Attempting  to  make  his  escape 
when  the  firing  commenced,  he  was  shot  within  a  few  rods 
of  the  Common.  Four  of  the  company  went  into  the 
meeting-house  which  stood  on  this  spot  for  a  supply  of 
ammunition.  They  had  brought  a  cask  of  powder  from  an 

*  Joseph  Simonds  was  the  ensign  of  the  Lexington  company,  on  the 
19th  of  April,  1775. 


556         THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON. 

upper  loft  into  the  gallery,  and  removed  its  head.  At  this 
moment,  the  house  was  surrounded  by  the  British  army,  and 
the  discharge  of  musketry,  and  the  cries  of  the  wounded, 
announced  that  the  work  of  death  was  begun.  One  of  the 
four  secreted  himself  in  the  opposite  gallery.  Another, 
Simonds,  cocked  his  gun.  and  lay  down  by  the  open  cask 
of  powder,  determined  never  to  be  taken  alive.  Comee  and 
Harrington  resolved  to  force  their  way  from  the  house  ;  and, 
in  this  desperate  attempt,  Comee  was  wounded  and  Harring- 
ton killed.  History  does  not  furnish  an  example  of  bravery 
that  outshines  that  of  Jonas  Parker.  A  truer  heart  did  not 
bleed  at  Thermopylae.  He  was  the  next  door  neighbor  of 
Mr  Clark,  and  had  evidently  imbibed  a  double  portion  of  his 
lofty  spirit.  Parker  was  often  heard  to  say,  that,  be  the  con- 
sequences what  they  might,  and  let  others  do  what  they 
pleased,  he  would  never  run  from  the  enemy.  He  was  as 
good  as  his  word,  —  better.  Having  loaded  his  musket,  he 
placed  his  hat,  containing  his  ammunition,  on  the  ground 
between  his  feet,  in  readiness  for  a  second  charge.  At  the 
second  fire  he  was  wounded,  and  sunk  upon  his  knees  ;  and 
in  this  condition  discharged  his  gun.  While  loading  it  again, 
upon  his  knees,  and  striving  in  the  agonies  of  death  to  redeem 
his  pledge,  he  was  transfixed  by  a  bayonet ;  and  thus  died  on 
the  spot  where  he  first  stood  and  fell. 

These  were  a  portion  of  the  terrors  of  this  blood-stained 
field.  But  how  shall  I  describe  the  agonizing  scene  which 
presented  itself,  that  fearful  night  and  the  following  day,  to 
every  family  in  Lexington  ?  —  The  husband,  the  father,  the 
brother,  the  son,  gone  forth  on  the  errand  of  peril  and  death. 
The  aged,  the  infirm,  the  unprotected,  left  without  a  guardian 
at  the  desolate  fireside,  at  this  dismal  moment,  awaiting  the 
instant  intelligence  of  some  fatal  disaster  ;  —  fainting  under 
the  exaggerated  terrors  of  a  state  of  things  so  new  and 
trying  ;  —  or  fleeing,  half  clad  and  bewildered,  to  the  covert 
of  the  neighboring  woods,  there  to  pass  the  ensuing  day,  — 
famished,  exhausted,  distracted,  —  the  prey  of  apprehensions 
worse  than  death.  The  work  of  destruction  had  begun. 
Who  could  assure  them  that  their  beloved  ones  were  not 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON.         557 

among  the  first  victims  ?  The  British  force  had  moved  on 
towards  Concord,  and  the  citizens  of  Lexington  had  joined  in 
the  pursuit.  What  new  dangers  awaited  them  on  the  march  ? 
The  enemy  was  to  return  through  their  village,  exasperated 
with  opposition.  What  new  horrors  might  not  be  expected 
from  his  vengeance  ? 

While  a  considerable  portion  of  the  unarmed  population  of 
Lexington  —  dispersed  through  the  nearest  villages,  or  wan- 
dering in  the  open  air,  behind  the  neighboring  hills,  and  in 
the  adjacent  woods  —  were  at  the  mercy  of  these  apprehen- 
sions, the  British  column  moved  on  towards  Concord.  The 
limits  of  the  occasion  put  it  out  of  my  power  to  dwell,  as  I 
would  gladly  do,  on  the  gallant  resistance  made  at  Concord,  — 
the  heroic  conduct  of  Davisj  Hosmer,  and  Buttrick,  and  their 
brave  companions,  —  the  rapid  and  formidable  gathering  of 
the  population,  the  precipitate  and  calamitous  retreat  of  the 
enemy.  On  the  return  of  this  anniversary  ten  years*  ago,  I 
endeavored,  at  the  request  of  our  fellow-citizens  of  Concord, 
as  far  as  I  was  able,  to  do  justice  to  this  interesting  narrative, 
and  to  the  distinguished  and  honorable  part  borne  by  the 
people  of  Concord  in  the  memorable  transactions  of  the  day. 
Time  will  only  permit  me  now  to  repeat,  in  brief,  that  the 
country  poured  down  its  population  in  every  direction.  They 
gathered  on  the  hills  that  overlooked  the  road  like  dark,  lower- 
ing clouds.  Every  patch  of  trees,  every  stream,  covert, 
building,  stone  wall  was  lined,  to  use  the  words  of  a  British 
officer,  with  an  unintermitted  fire.  A  skirmish  engaged  the 
enemy  at  every  defile  and  cross  road.  Through  one  of  them 
Governor  Brooks  led  up  the  men  of  Reading.  At  another, 
Captain  Parker,  with  the  Lexington  militia,  although  seven- 
teen of  his  number  had  been  killed  or  wounded  in  the 
morning,  returned  to  the  conflict.  Before  they  reached  Lex- 
ington, the  rout  of  the  invaders  was  complete  ;  and  it  was 
only  by  placing  themselves  in  the  front,  and  threatening 
instant  death  to  their  own  men  if  they  continued  their  flight, 
that  the  officers  were  able,  in  some  degree,  to  check  their 
disorder.  Their  entire  destruction  was  prevented  by  the 
arrival  of  reinforcements  under  Lord  Percy,  who  reached 


558         THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON. 

Lexington  in  time  to  rescue  the  exhausted  troops  on  their 
flight  from  Concord.  Lord  Percy  brought  with  him  two 
pieces  of  artillery,  which  were  stationed  on  points  command- 
ing the  road.  A  cannon  shot  from  one  of  them  passed 
through  the  meeting-house  which  stood  on  this  spot.  These 
pieces  were  diligently  served,  and  kept  the  Americans  at  bay  ; 
but  the  moment  the  retreat  was  resumed,  the  whole  country 
was  again  alive.*  It  was  a  season  of  victory  for  the  cause,  — 
auspicious  of  the  fortune  of  the  revolution,  —  but  purchased 
with  accumulated  sacrifices  on  the  part  of  Lexington.  To 
cover  their  retreat,  the  British  army  set  fire  to  the  houses  on 
the  road.  Some  were  burned  to  the  ground  ;  several  injured ; 
and  three  more  of  the  brave  citizens  of  Lexington  were 
killed. 

At  length  the  eventful  day  is  passed,  the  doleful  tocsin  is 
hushed,  the  dreadful  voice  of  the  cannon  is  still,  the  storm 
has  passed  by.  It  has  spent  its  fury  on  your  devoted  village, 
—  your  houses  have  been  wrapped  in  flames,  —  your  old 
men,  women,  and  children  have  fled  in  terror  from  their  fire- 
sides, —  your  brave  sons  have  laid  down  their  lives  at  the 
threshold  of  their  dwellings,  —  and  the  shades  of  evening 
settle  down  upon  your  population,  worn  with  fatigue,  heavy 
with  bereavement  and  sorrow.  What  is  the  character,  and 
what  are  the  consequences,  of  the  day  ?  It  was  one  of  those 
occasions  in  which  the  duration  of  ages  is  compressed  into  a 
span.  What  was  done  and  suffered  on  that  day  will  never 
cease  to  be  felt,  in  its  ulterior  consequences,  till  all  that  is 
America  has  perished.  In  the  lives  of  individuals  there  are 
moments  which  °:ive  a  character  to  existence  ;  —  moments  too 
often,  through  levity,  indolence,  or  perversity,  suffered  to  pass 
unimproved ;  but  sometimes  met  with  the  fortitude  and 
energy  due  to  their  momentous  consequences.  So,  in  the 
life  of  nations,  there  are  all-important  junctures,  when  the 
fate  of  centuries  is  crowded  into  a  narrow  space,  —  suspended 
on  the  results  of  an  hour.  With  the  mass  of  statesmen,  their 
character  is  faintly  perceived,  their  consequences  imperfectly 

*  See  note  B,  at  the  end. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON.         559 

apprehended,  the  certain  sacrifices  exaggerated,  the  future 
blessings  dimly  seen  ;  and  some  timid  and  disastrous  com- 
promise, some  faint-hearted  temperament,  is  patched  up,  in  the 
complacency  of  short-sighted  wisdom.  Such  a  crisis  was  the 
period  which  preceded  the  nineteenth  of  April.  Such  a  com- 
promise the  British  ministry  proposed,  courted,  and  would 
have  accepted  most  thankfully ;  but  not  such  was  the  patriot- 
ism nor  the  wisdom  of  those  who  guided  the  councils  of 
America  and  wrought  out  her  independence.  They  knew, 
that,  in  the  order  of  that  Providence  in  which  a  thousand 
years  are  as  one  day,  a  day  is  sometimes  as  a  thousand  years. 
Such  a  day  was  at  hand.  They  saw,  they  comprehended, 
they  welcomed  it :  they  knew  it  was  an  era.  They  met  it 
with  feelings  like  those  of  Luther,  when  he  denounced  the 
sale  of  indulgences,  and  pointed  his  thunders  at  once  —  poor 
Augustine  monk  —  against  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  power 
of  the  Church,  the  Quirinal,  and  the  Vatican.  They  courted 
the  storm  of  war,  as  Columbus  courted  the  stormy  billows  of 
the  glorious  ocean,  from  whose  giddy  tops  he  seemed  to  look 
out,  as  from  a  watch-tower,  to  catch  the  first  hazy  wreath  in 
the  west  which  was  to  announce  that  a  new  world  was 
found.  The  poor  Augustine  monk  knew  and  was  persuaded 
that  the  hour  had  come,  and  he  was  elected  to  control  it,  in 
which  a  mighty  revolution  was  to  be  wrought  in  the  Chris- 
tian church.  The  poor  Genoese  pilot  knew  in  his  heart  that 
he  had,  as  it  were,  but  to  stretch  out  the  wand  of  his  courage 
and  skill,  and  call  up  a  new  continent  from  the  depths  of  the 
sea ;  and  Hancock  and  Adams,  through  the  smoke  and  flames 
of  the  nineteenth  of  April,  beheld  the  sun  of  their  country's 
independence  arise,  with  healing  in  his  wings. 

And  you,  brave  and  patriotic  men,  whose  ashes  are  gathered 
in  this  humble  place  of  deposit,  no  time  shall  rob  you  of  the 
well-deserved  meed  of  praise  !  You,  too,  perceived,  not  less 
clearly  than  the  more  illustrious  patriots  whose  spirit  you 
caught,  that  the  decisive  hour  had  come.  You  felt  with 
them  that  it  could  not,  must  not  be  shunned.  You  had 
resolved  it  should  not.  Reasoning,  remonstrance  had  been 
tried  :  from  your  own  town  meetings,  from  the  pulpit,  from 


560  THE    BATTLE    OF    LEXINGTON. 

beneath  the  arches  of  Faneuil  Hall,  every  note  of  argument, 
of  appeal,  of  adjuration,  had  sounded  to  the  foot  of  the 
throne,  and  in  vain.  The  wheels  of  destiny  rolled  on ;  the 
great  design  of  Providence  must  be  fulfilled  ;  the  issue  must 
be  nobly  met,  or  basely  shunned.  Strange  it  seemed,  inscru- 
table it  was,  that  your  remote  and  quiet  village  should  be  the 
chosen  altar  of  the  first  great  sacrifice.  But  the  summons 
came  and  found  you  waiting ;  and  here,  in  the  centre  of  your 
dwelling-places,  within  sight  of  the  homes  you  were  to  enter 
no  more,  between  the  village  church  where  your  fathers  wor- 
shipped and  the  graveyard  where  they  lay  at  rest,  bravely 
and  meekly,  like  Christian  heroes,  you  sealed  the  cause  with 
your  blood.  Parker,  Munroe,  Hadley,  the  Harringtons, 
Muzzy,  Brown  :  —  alas  !  ye  cannot  hear  my  words.  No 
voice  but  that  of  the  archangel  shall  penetrate  your  urns  ;  but 
to  the  end  of  time,  your  remembrance  shall  be  preserved  ! 
To  the  end  of  time,  the  soil  whereon  ye  fell  is  holy,  and 
shall  be  trodden  with  reverence,  while  America  has  a  name, 
among  the  nations ! 

And  now  ye  are  going  to  lie  down  beneath  yon  simple 
stone,  which  marks  the  place  of  your  mortal  agony.  Fit 
spot  for  your  last  repose  ! 

"  Where  should  the  soldier  rest,  but  where  he  fell  ? " 

For  ages  to  come,  the  characters  graven  in  the  enduring 
marble  shall  tell  the  unadorned  tale  of  your  sacrifice  ;  and 
ages  after  that  stone  itself  has  crumbled  into  dust  as  inex- 
pressive as  yours,  history  shall  transmit  the  record  !  Ay, 
while  the  language  we  speak  retains  its  meaning  in  the  ears 
of  men,  your  names  and  your  memory  shall  be  cherished  ! 


NOTES. 


NOTE  A,  p.  527. 

THE  following  is  the  list  of  Captain  Parker's  company,  as  they  stood 
enrolled  on  the  19th  of  April,  1775. 

Those  marked  with  an  asterisk  were  present  at  the  celebration  on  the 
20th  of  April,  1835. 


Blodget,  Isaac 

Bowman,  Francis 

Bridge,  John 

Bridge,  Joseph 

Brown,  Francis,  sergeant,  wounded 

Brown,  James 

Brown,  John,  killed 

Brown,  Solomon,  living 

Buckman,  John 

Chandler,  John 

Chandler,  John,  Jun. 

Child,  Ahijah 

Comee,  Joseph,  wounded 

Cutter,  Thomas 

*  Durant,  Isaac 
Eastabrook,  Joseph 
Farmer,  Nathaniel,  wounded 
Fessenden,  Nathan 
Fessenden,  Thomas 

*  Fisk,  Joseph,  Dr 
Green,  Isaac 
Grimes,  William 
Hadley,  Benjamin 
Hadley,  Ebenezer 
Hadley,  Samuel,  killed 
Hadley,  Thomas 
Harrington,  Caleb,  killed 
Harrington,  Daniel,  clerk 
Harrington,  Ebenezer 
Harrington,  Jeremiah 
Harrington,  John 

VOL.   I.  71 


Harrington,  Jonathan 
Harrington,  Jonathan,  Jun.,  killed 
Harrington,  Jonathan,  3d,  living 
Harrington,  Moses 
Harrington,  Thaddeus 
Harrington,  Thomas 
Harrington,  William, 
Hastings,  Isaac 

*  Hosmer,  John 
Lock,  Amos 

Lock,  Benjamin,  living 

*  Loring,  Jonathan 
Loring,  Joseph 
Marrett,  Amos 

*  Mason,  Daniel 
Mason,  Joseph 
Mead,  Abner 
Merriam,  Benjamin 
Merriam,  William 
Mulliken,  Nathaniel 
Munroe,  Asa 
Munroe,  Ebenezer 

Munroe,  Ebenezer,  Jun.,  wounded 
Munroe,  Edmund,  lieutenant 
Munroe,  George 
Munroe,  Isaac,  Jun.,  killed 
Munroe,   Jedediah,   wounded  in  ths 

morning,  killed  in  the  afternoon 
Munroe,  John 
Munroe,  John,  Jun. 
Munroe,  Philemon 
(561) 


562 


NOTES. 


Munroe,  Robert,  killed 
Munroe,  William,  orderly  sergeant 
•Munroe,  William,  Jun. 
Muzzy,  Amos 

*  Parker,  Ebenezer 
Parker,  John,  captain 
Parker,  Jonas,  killed 
Parker,  Thaddeus 
Parkhurst,  John 

Pierce,  Solomon,  wounded 

Porter,  Asahel,  of  Woburn,  killed 

Prince,  a  negro,  wounded 

Raymond,  John,  killed 

Reed,  Hammond 

Reed,  Josiah,  living 

Reed,  Joshua 

Reed,  Nathan 

Reed,  Robert 

Reed,  Thaddeus 

Reed,  William 

Robbins,  John,  wounded 

Robbing,  Thomas 

Robinson,  Joseph 

Sanderson,  Elijah 

Sanderson,  Samuel 

*  Simonds,  Ebenezer 
Simonds,  Joseph,  ensign 


Simonds,  Josiah 
Simonds,  Joshua 
Smith,  Abraham 
Smith,  David 
Smith,  Ebenezer 
Smith,  Jonathan 
Smith,  Joseph 
Smith,  Phineas 
Smith,  Samuel 
Smith,  Thaddeus 
Smith,  William 
Stearns,  Asahel 
Stone,  Jonas 
Tidd,  John,  wounded 
Tidd,  Samuel 
Tidd,  William 
Viles,  Joel 
White,  Ebenezer 
Williams,  John 
Wellington,  Benjamin 
Wellington,  Timothy 
Winship,  John 
Winship,  Simeon 
Winship,  Thomas 
Wyman,  James 
Wyman,  Nathaniel 


NOTE   B,  p.  558. 

The  proper  limits  of  the  occasion  precluded  a  detail  of  the  interesting 
occurrences  of  the  retreat  and  pursuit  from  Lexington  to  Charlestown. 
One  portion  of  these  were  commemorated  at  Danvers,  on  the  20th  of  April, 
1835.  Next  to  Lexington,  Danvers  suffered  more  severely  than  any  other 
town.  Seven  of  the  Danvers  company  were  killed.  On  the  late  return 
of  the  anniversary,  the  corner-stone  of  a  monument  to  their  memory  was 
laid  at  Danvers,  with  affecting  ceremonies,  and  a  highly  interesting  address 
was  delivered  by  Daniel  P.  King,  Esq.,  of  that  place. 

The  following  return  of  all  the  killed  and  wounded  is  taken  from  the 
appendix  to  Mr  Phinney's  pamphlet:  — 

LEXINGTON.  Killed  in  the  morning.  —  Jonas  Parker,  Robert  Munroe,  Sam- 
uel Hadley,  Jonathan  Harrington,  Jun.,  Isaac  Muzzy,  Caleb  Harrington,  John 
Brown.  —  7. 

Kitted  in  the  afternoon.  —  Jedediah  Munroe,  John  Raymond,  Nathaniel 
Wyman.  —  3. 

Wounded  in  the  morning.  —  John   Robbins,    Solomon  Pierce,  John  Tidd, 


NOTES.  563 

Joseph  Comee,  Ebenczer  Munroe,  Jun.,  Thomas  Winship,  Nathaniel  Farmer, 
Prince  Estabrook,  Jedediah  Munroe.  —  9. 

Wounded  in  the  afternoon.  —  Francis  Brown.  —  1. 

CAMBRIDGE.  Killed.  —  William  Marcy,  Moses  Richardson,  John  Hicks, 
Jason  Russell  Jabez  Wyman,  Jason  Winship.  —  6. 

Wounded.  —  Samuel  Whittemore.  —  1. 

Missing.  —  Samuel  Frost,  Seth  Russell.  —  2. 

CONCORD.     Wounded.  —  Charles  Miles,  Nathan  Barnet,  Abel  Prescott.  —  3. 

NEEDHAM.  —  Lieutenant  John  Bourn,  Elisha  Mills,  Amos  Mills,  Nathaniel 
Chamberlain,  Jonathan  Parker.  —  5. 

Wounded.  —  Eleazer  Kinsbury,  Tolman.  —  2. 

SUDBURY.     Killed.  —  Josiah  Haynes,  Asahel  Reed.  —  2. 

Wounded.  —  Joshua  Haynes,  Jun.  —  1. 

ACTON.    Killed.  —  Captain  Isaac  Davis,  Abner  Hosmer,  James  Hayward. —  3. 

BEDFORD.     Killed.  —  Jonathan  Wilson.  —  1.     Wounded.  —  Job  Lane.  —  1. 

WOBURN.     Killed.  —  Asahel  Porter,  Daniel  Thompson.  —  2. 

Wounded.  —  George  Reed,  John  Bacon,  Johnson.  —  3. 

MEDFORD.     Kitted.  —  Henry  Putnam,  William  Polly.  —  2. 

CHARLESTOWN.     Killed.  —  James  Miller,  C.  Barber's  son.  —  2. 

WATERTOWN.     Killed.  —  Joseph  Coolidge.  —  1. 

FRAMINGHAM.     Wounded.  —  Daniel  Hemmenway.  —  1. 

DEDHAM.     Killed.  —  Elias  Haven.     Wounded.  —  Israel  Everett. 

STOW.     Wounded.  —  Daniel  Conant. 

ROXBURY.     Missing.  —  Elijah  Seaver. 

BROOKLINE.     Killed.  —  Isaac  Gardner,  Esq.  —  1. 

BILLERICA.     Wounded.  —  John  Nickols,  Timothy  Blanchard. 

CHELMSFORD.     Wounded.  —  Aaron  Chamberlain,  Oliver  Barren.  —  2. 

SALEM.     Killed.  —  Benjamin  Pierce. 

NEWTON.     Wounded.  —  Noah  Wiswall. 

DANVERS.  Killed.  —  Henry  Jacobs,  Samuel  Cook,  Ebenezer  Goldthwait, 
George  Southwick,  Benjamin  Daland,  Jotham  Webb,  Perley  Putnam.  —  7. 

Wounded.  —  Nathan  Putnam,  Dennis  Wallace.  —  2. 

Missing.  —  Joseph  Bell.  —  1. 

BEVERLY.     Killed.  —  Reuben  Kenyme.  —  1. 

Wounded.  —  Nathaniel  Cleves,  Samuel  Woodbury,  William  Dodge,  3d.  —  3. 

LYNN.  Killed.  —  Abcdnego  Ramsdell,  Daniel  Townsend,  William  Flint, 
Thomas  Hadley.  —  4. 

Wounded.  —  Joshua  Felt,  Timothy  Munroe.  —  2, 

Missing.  —  Josiah  Breed.  —  1. 

TOTAL.     Killed,  49.     Wounded,  36.     Missing,  5. 


THE  YOUTH   OF  WASHINGTON.* 


WHEN  our  fathers  united  in  resistance  to  the  oppressive 
measures  of  the  British  ministry,  a  few  only  of  the  leading 
patriots,  and  those  principally  of  Massachusetts,  contemplated 
the  establishment  of  an  independent  government.  They 
were  unanimously  determined  to  assert  their  rights,  and  to 
stand  or  fall  in  their  defence ;  but  the  mass  of  the  people 
desired  and  expected  a  reconciliation.  There  is  preserved  a 
letter  of  Washington,  written  from  Philadelphia,  on  the  ninth 
of  October,  1774,  at  which  place  he  was  in  attendance,  as  a 
member  of  the  first  revolutionary  Congress.  It  is  addressed 
to  Captain  McKenzie,  an  officer  of  the  British  army  in  Bos- 
ton, with  whom  Washington  had  served  in  the  former  war. 
It  probably  gives  the  precise  state  of  the  feelings  of  the 
patriots,  both  in  and  out  of  Congress,  with  the  exception  of 
a  very  few  bold,  far-reaching  —  and  I  might  almost  say  in- 
spired —  individuals,  who  went  far  beyond  their  day,  and  knew 
that  separation  and  independence  were  inevitable.  It  con- 
tains unquestionably  the  feelings  and  opinions  of  Washington 
himself.  "  I  think,"  says  he,  "  I  can  announce  it  as  a  fact, 
that  it  is  not  the  wish  nor  the  interest  of  the  government 
of  Massachusetts,  or  any  other  government  upon  this  conti- 
nent, separately  or  collectively,  to  set  up  for  independence  ; 
but  this  you  may  rely  upon,  that  none  of  them  will  ever 
submit  to  the  loss  of  those  valuable  rights  and  privileges 
which  are  essential  to  the  inhabitants  of  every  free  state,  and 
without  which,  life,  liberty,  and  property  are  rendered  totally 

*  Oration  delivered  on  the  4th  day  of  July,  1835  before  the  citizens 
of  Beverly,  without  distinction  of  party. 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  565 

insecure."*  The  address  to  the  king,  which  was  adopted 
by  Congress  a  short  time  after  this  letter  was  written,  con- 
tains the  most  solemn  protestations  of  loyalty  ;  and  after 
setting  forth,  in  strong  language,  the  views  entertained  in 
America  of  the  ministerial  policy,  it  adds,  "  These  sentiments 
are  extorted  from  hearts  that  would  much  more  willingly 
bleed  in  your  majesty's  service." 

I  have  no  doubt  these  and  numerous  other  like  protesta- 
tions were  entirely  sincere  ;  and  I  quote  them  to  show,  in  the 
clearest  manner,  that  the  revolutionary  struggle  was  a  contest 
for  principle,  in  which  our  fathers  engaged  with  reluctance, 
and  that  the  torch  of  independence  was  not  kindled  by  the 
unholy  fire  of  personal  ambition.  But  the  measures  of  the 
British  ministry  were,  conceived  in  the  lofty  spirit  of  offended 
power,  dealing  with  disaffected  colonial  subjects.  The  sov- 
ereign considered  the  prerogatives  of  majesty  to  be  invaded. 
The  crisis  was  beyond  the  grasp  of  common  minds.  The 
government  and  people  of  England  —  and  perhaps  I  should 
add  the  people  of  America  —  were  unconscious  that  a  state 
of  things  existed  vastly  transcending  the  sphere  of  ordinary 
politics. 

It  was  not  possible  that  the  great  controversy  should  be 
settled  by  any  common  mode  of  adjustment.  A  change  in 
the  British  constitution,  by  which  the  colonies  should  have 
been  admitted  to  a  full  representation  in  Parliament,  would 
probably  have  restored  harmony.  But  this  was  rejected  even 
by  the  most  enlightened  friends  of  America  in  the  British 
Parliament.  After  alternate  measures  of  inadequate  concili- 
ation and  feeble  and  irritating  coercion,  the  sword  is  drawn. 
The  wound  of  which  Chatham  spoke  —  the  vulnus  immedi- 
cabile ;  the  wound  for  which,  in  all  the  British  Gilead,  there 
was  not  one  drop  of  balm ;  the  wound  which  a  child,  a 
madman,  a  thoughtless  moment  might  inflict,  and  did  inflict ; 

*  Washington's  Works,  Vol.  II.  p.  401.  In  making  this  citation,  I 
would  acknowledge  my  obligations  to  Mr  Sparks's  invaluable  collection 
of  the  Writings  of  Washington,  particularly  the  Appendix  to  the  second 
volume,  for  the  greater  portion  of  the  historical  materials  made  use  of 
in  this  Address.  ' 


566  THE     YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

a  wretched  project  to  knock  the  trunnions  off  a  half  a  dozen 
iron  six-pounders,  and  throw  a  few  barrels  of  flour  into  the 
river  at  Concord,  —  this  incurable  wound,  which  not  parlia- 
ments, nor  ministers,  nor  kings,  to  the  end  of  time,  could 
heal,  is  inflicted.  When  the  sun  went  down  on  the  eigh- 
teenth of  April,  1775,  England  and  America,  inflamed  as  they 
were,  might  yet,  under  a  great  and  generous  constitutional 
reform,  have  been  led  by  an  infant's  hand  in  the  silken  bonds 
of  union.  When  the  sun  rose  on  the  nineteenth  of  April, 
hooks  of  steel  could  not  have  held  them  together.  And  yet, 
even  yet,  the  hope  of  an  amicable  adjustment  is  not  wholly 
abandoned.  The  armies  of  America,  under  the  command  of 
her  beloved  Washington,  are  in  the  field ;  but  near  a  month 
after  he  was  appointed,  another  petition,  to  the  king,  breath- 
ing the  warmest  spirit  of  loyalty,  was  adopted  by  Congress. 
But  a  twelvemonth  passes  by,  —  that  petition  is  unavailing  ; 
war,  flagrant  war,  rages  from  Carolina  to  Maine  ;  the  heights 
of  Chaiiestown  had  already  flowed  with  blood ;  Falmouth  is 
wrapped  in  flames ;  seventeen  thousand  German  troops,  in 
addition  to  twenty-five  thousand  British  veterans,  are  organ- 
ized into  an  army  destined  to  trample  the  spirit  of  the  revo- 
lution into  bloody  dust ;  and  the  people  of  America  are 
declared  to  be  out  of  the  protection,  though  subject  to  the 
power,  of  the  crown,  abandoned  to  a  free  hunt  by  all  the 
dogs  of  war.  It  was  then  that  the  hope  of  accommodation 
was  abandoned,  and  the  independence  of  the  United  States 
was  formally  declared.  A  son  of  Massachusetts,  to  use  his 
own  language,  "crossed  the  Rubicon." 

In  the  measures  touching  the  final  renunciation  of  allegi- 
ance to  Great  Britain,  John  Adams  took  the  lead,  the  first 
individual,  as  it  seems  to  me,  who  formed  and  expressed  a 
distinct  idea  of  American  independence.  In  a  letter  written 
in  the  month  of  October,  1754,  when  he  was  himself  but 
twenty  years  old,  while  France  and  her  Indian  allies  stood, 
like  a  wall  of  fire,  against  the  progress  of  the  Americans 
westward,  he  predicted  the  expulsion  of  the  French  from  the 
continent,  and  the  establishment  of  an  independent  govern- 
ment, on  the  basis  of  the  union  of  the  colonies,  fortified  by 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  567 

a  controlling  naval  power.  Such  was  the  vision  of  Adams 
before  the  open  commencement  of  the  war  which  removed 
the  French  from  the  continent,  long  before  the  new  financial 
policy  of  Great  Britain  had  roused  the  spirit  of  James  Otis 
and  Patrick  Henry;  twenty-one  years  before  the  blood  of 
Lexington  was  shed.  For  twenty-one  years,  at  least,  John 
Adams  had  cherished  the  vision  of  independence.  He  had 
seen  one  war  fought  through  in  singular  accordance  with  the 
destiny  he  had  foretold  for  his  country.  He  had  caught  and 
fanned  the  first  sparks  of  patriotic  disaffection.  His  tongue, 
hif  pen,  —  in  thoughts  that  breathe  and  words  that  burn, — 
had  discoursed  to  the  understandings  and  hearts  of  his  fellow- 
citizens.  He  had  spurned  the  bribes  of  office ;  he  had  burst 
the  bonds  of  friendship  ;  and  identifying  himself,  as  well  he 
might,  with  his  beloved  country,  he  had  said  to  the  friend 
of  his  heart,  —  who  unhappily  differed  from  him  in  politics, 
—  in  the  moment  of  their  last  separation,  "  I  know  that 
Great  Britain  has  determined  on  her  system,  and  that  very 
fact  determines  me  on  mine.  You  know  that  I  have  been 
constant  and  uniform  in  opposition  to  all  her  measures.  The 
die  is  now  cast ;  I  have  passed  the  Rubicon ;  swim  or  sink, 
live  or  die,  with  my  country,  is  my  unalterable  determi- 
nation." 

On  the  sixth  of  May,  1776,  John  Adams  moved  a  resolu- 
tion in  Congress,  that  the  colonies,  which  had  not  already 
done  so,  should  establish  independent  systems  of  govern- 
ment ;  and  this  resolution,  after  having  been  strenuously 
debated  for  nine  days,  passed.  The  deed  was  done ;  but 
the  principle  of  independence  must  be  asserted.  On  the 
seventh  of  June,  by  previous  concert,  resolutions  to  that  effect 
were  moved  by  Richard  Henry  Lee,  of  Virginia,  and  seconded 
by  John  Adams,  of  Massachusetts.  They  were  debated  in 
committee  of  the  whole,  on  Saturday,  the  eighth,  and  again 
on  Monday,  the  tenth,  on  which  last  day  the  first  resolution 
was  reported  to  the  House,  in  the  following  form :  "  That 
these  united  colonies  are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and 
independent  states  ;  that  they  are  absolved  from  all  allegi- 
ance to  the  British  crown ;  and  that  all  political  connection 


568  THE    YODTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

between  them  and  the  state  of  Great  Britain  is,  and  ought 
to  be,  totally  dissolved."  The  final  decision  of  this  resolu- 
tion was  postponed  till  the  first  day  of  July;  but  in  the 
mean  while  it  was,  with  characteristic  simplicity,  resolved, 
in  order  "  that  no  time  be  lost,  in  case  the  Congress  agree 
thereto,  that  a  committee  be  appointed  to  prepare  a  Declara- 
tion, to  the  effect  of  the  first  resolution."  The  following 
day,  a  committee  of  five  was  chosen.  Richard  Henry  Lee, 
who  had  moved  the  resolutions  for  independence,  and  would 
of  course  have  been  placed  at  the  head  of  the  committee, 
had  been  obliged,  by  illness  in  his  family,  to  go  home,  and 
Thomas  Jefferson  of  Yirginia,  the  youngest  member  of  the 
Congress,  was  elected  first  on  the  committee  in  his  place. 
John  Adams  stood  second  on  the  committee  ;  the  other  mem- 
bers were  Benjamin  Franklin,  Roger  Sherman,  and  Chan- 
cellor Livingston.  Jefferson  and  Adams  were,  by  their 
brethren  on  the  committee,  deputed  to  draw  the  Declaration, 
and  the  immortal  work  was  performed  by  Jefferson. 

Meantime  the  resolution  had  not  yet  been  voted  in  Con- 
gress. The  first  day  of  July  came,  and,  at  the  request  of  a 
colony,  the  decision  was  postponed  till  the  following  day. 
On  that  day,  July  the  second,  it  passed.  The  discussion  of 
the  Declaration  continued  for  that  and  the  following  day. 
On  the  third  of  July,  John  Adams  wrote  to  his  wife  in  the 
following  memorable  strain  :  "  Yesterday,  the  greatest  ques- 
tion was  decided  which  was  ever  debated  in  America ;  and 
greater  perhaps  never  was  nor  will  be  decided  among  men. 
A  resolution  was  passed,  without  one  dissenting  colony, 
That  these  United  States  are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free 
and  independent  states."  In  another  letter,  the  same  day, 
he  wrote,  "  The  day  is  passed ;  the  second  of  July,  1776, 
will  be  a  memorable  epoch  in  the  history  of  America.  I  am 
apt  to  believe  it  will  be  celebrated  by  succeeding  generations 
as  the  great  anniversary  festival.  It  ought  to  be  commemo- 
rated as  the  Day  of  Deliverance,  by  solemn  acts  of  devotion 
to  Almighty  God.  It  ought  to  be  solemnized  with  pomp, 
shows,  games,  sports,  guns,  bells,  bonfires,  and  illuminations, 
from  one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other,  from  this  time 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  569 

forward  forever.  You  will  think  me  transported  with 
enthusiasm ;  but  I  am  not.  I  am  well  aware  of  the  toil, 
blood,  and  treasure  that  it  will  cost  to  maintain  this  Declara- 
tion, and  support  and  defend  these  states ;  yet,  through  all 
the  gloom  I  can  see  rays  of  light  and  glory.  I  can  see  that 
the  end  is  worth  more  than  all  the  means ;  that  posterity  will 
triumph,  although  you  and  I  may  rue,  which  I  hope  we  shall 
not."  , 

On  the  following  day,  Jhe  fourth,  the  Declaration  was 
formally  adopted  by  Congress,  and  proclaimed  to  the  world, 
the  most  important  document  in  the  political  history  of 
nations.  As  the  day  on  which  this  solemn  manifesto  was 
made  public,  rather  than  that  on  which  the  resolution  was 
adopted  in  private,  was  deemed  the  proper  date  of  the  coun- 
try's independence,  the  fourth  of  July  has  been  consecrated 
as  the  national  anniversary,  and  will  thus  be  celebrated,  with 
patriotic  zeal  and  pious  gratitude,  by  the  citizens  of  America, 
to  the  end  of  time. 

Such  it  was  ever  regarded ;  as  such,  for  half  a  century,  it 
had  been  hailed  throughout  the  Union,  in  conformity  with 
the  prediction  of  the  illustrious  Adams.  But  what  new 
sanctity  did  it  not  acquire,  when,  nine  years  ago,  and  on  the 
fiftieth  return  of  the  auspicious  anniversary,  it  pleased  Heaven 
to  signalize  it  by  the  most  remarkable  and  touching  Provi- 
dence, which  merely  human  history  records ! 

Who  among  us,  fellow-citizens,  of  years  to  comprehend 
the  event,  but  felt  an  awe-struck  sense  of  direct  interposition, 
when  told  that  Jefferson  and  Adams  —  one  the  author  of  the 
immortal  Declaration,  the  other  his  immediate  associate  in 
preparing  it,  "  the  Colussus  who  sustained  it  in  debate  "  — 
had  departed  this  life  together  on  the  day  which  their  united 
act  had  raised  into  an  era  in  the  history  of  the  world! 
Whose  heart  was  not  touched  at  beholding  these  patriarchs 
—  after  all  their  joint  labors,  their  lofty  rivalry,  their  passing 
collisions,  their  returning  affections,  their  long  enjoyment  of 
the  blessings  they  had  done  so  much  to  procure  for  theii 
country  —  closing  their  eventful  career  on  that  day  which 
they  would  themselves  have  chosen  as  their  last ;  that  day 
VOL.  i.  72 


570  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

which  the  kindest  friend  could  not  have  wished  them  to 
survive ! 

This  is  the  day,  fellow-citizens  of  Beverly,  which  we 
have  met  to  commemorate ;  which  you  have  done  me  the 
honor  —  an  humble  stranger,  known  but  to  a  very  few  of 
you  —  to  invite  me  to  join  you  in  celebrating.  Had  I  looked 
only  to  my  personal  convenience,  I  could  have  found  a  justi- 
fication for  excusing  myself  from  the  performance  of  the  duty 
you  have  assigned  me.  Had  I  followed  my  strong  inclina- 
tion, I  should  have  been  a  listener  to-day.  A  single  consid- 
eration has  induced  me  to  obey  your  call ;  and  that  is,  that  it 
proceeds  from  my  fellow-citizens,  without  distinction  of  party. 
I  have  ever  been  of  opinion  that  the  anniversary  of  our 
national  independence  is  never  so  properly  celebrated  as 
when  it  brings  us  all  together  as  members  of  one  great  family 
Our  beloved  and  venerated  Washington,  in  his  farewell  ad- 
dress, has  declared  party  spirit  to  be  "  the  worst  enemy  "  of 
a  popular  government ;  and  that  "  the  effort  ought  to  be,  by 
the  force  of  public  opinion,  to  mitigate  and  assuage  it." 

It  is  of  little  avail  to  agitate  the  question,  whether  the 
existence  of  parties,  in  a  free  state,  is  an  unmingled  evil,  or 
an  evil  in  some  measure  compensated  by  a  mixture  of  good. 
It  is  unavailing,  because  it  may  be  taken  for  granted,  that  in 
all  free  states,  —  in  all  countries  in  which  representative 
governments  exist,  and  places  of  honor,  trust,  and  emolu- 
ment are  elective ;  where  the  press  is  free,  and  thought  is 
free,  and  speech  is  free,  —  there  parties  must  and  will  arise, 
by  the  very  necessity  of  our  nature.  They  cannot  be 
avoided  while  the  state  remains  a  free  one ;  and  no  force  or 
influence  could  be  applied  to  control  them  that  would  not  be 
at  the  same  time  destructive  of  liberty.  There  are  no  parties 
in  Turkey,  and  none  in  China,  though  there  are  frequent 
rebellions  in  both.  There  were  no  parties  in  France,  under 
Louis  XIV.  But  wherever  the  constitution  gives  to  the 
people  a  share  in  the  government,  there  parties  spring  up, 
under  the  influence  of  the  different  interests,  opinions,  and 
passions  of  men.  The  zeal  and  violence  with  which  the 
party  controversies  are  waged  will  depend  on  the  habits  and 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  571 

temper  of  the  people ;  the  nature  of  the  questions  at  stake ; 
the  mode  in  which  they  are  decided  ;  the  facility  with  which 
the  will  of  the  majority  takes  effect.  In  some  countries,  the 
dissensions  of  party  have  been  kept  almost  always  within 
comparatively  reasonable  limits,  and  have  never  or  rarely 
proceeded  so  far  as  to  endanger  the  peace  of  society,  shake 
the  security  of  property,  or  bring  upon  the  community  the 
terrors  of  bloodshed  and  civil  war.  In  other  countries,  the 
operation  of  causes  too  numerous  to  be  detailed  has  made 
the  pages  of  their  domestic  annals  a  bloody  record  of  vio- 
lence and  crime,  of  remorseless  and  maddening  convulsions, 
in  which  peace,  property,  and  life,  have  made  common 
shipwreck. 

In  our  own  country,  and  in  that  from  which,  for  the  most 
part,  we  are  descended,  — but  especially  in  our  own  country, 
—  party  dissensions  have  probably  been  attended  with  as 
little  evil  as  is  compatible  with  the  frailty  of  our  natures.  It 
is  generally  admitted,  that  the  opposite  parties  have  acted  as 
watchful  sentinels  over  each  other.  It  would  not  be  easy  to 
point  out  any  free  country  in  history  where  so  few  of  those 
deplorable  acts  of  violence  which  go  to  the  destruction  of 
peace  and  life  —  which  constitute  that, most  frightful  of  all 
despotisms,  a  reign  of  terror — are  set  down  to  the  reproach 
of  a  people.  It  has  never  happened  in  New  England, — and 
God  grant  it  never  may  happen,  —  that  lawless  assemblages, 
inflamed  by  party  rage,  have  encountered  each  other  with 
murderous  weapons  in  the  streets ;  and  never  that  a  trium- 
phant faction,  feeling  power  and  forgetting  right,  has  used 
the  sword  of  public  justice  to  wreak  the  vengeance  of  party 
feeling. 

Many  causes  might  be  assigned  for  an  effect  which  is  so 
honorable  to  the  character  of  the  people,  and  which  has  con- 
tributed so  much  to  the  prosperity  of  the  country.  I  take  it 
a  main  cause  has  been  the  thoroughly  popular  organization 
of  the  government,  and  the  frequent  recurrence  of  the  elec- 
tions. When  the  majority  of  the  people,  at  regularly  return- 
ing periods  of  one,  two,  four,  or  six  years,  have  it  in  their 
power  to  bestow,  wherever  they  please,  all  the  places  of  trust 


572  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

and  honor,  there  is  little  temptation  to  proceed  by  violence 
against  the  opposite  party.  There  is  no  need  of  resorting  to 
banishment  or  the  scaffold  to  displace  an  obnoxious  ruler  or 
an  odious  opponent,  when  a  single  twelvemonth  will  reduce 
him  to  the  level  of  the  rest  of  the  community.  It  is  true 
the  community  is  kept  agitated  and  excited,  but  it  is  not 
kept  armed.  Electioneering  takes  the  place  of  all  the  other 
forms  and  manifestations  of  party  spirit ;  and  though  the 
paroxysm  of  a  contested  election  is  not  in  itself  a  condition 
of  society  favorable  to  its  peace  or  prosperity,  it  is  far  better 
than  cruel  hereditary  feuds,  and  bloody  contests  of  rival 
states,  like  those  which  stain  the  annals  of  ancient  Greece, 
and  of  the  modern  Italian  republics. 

Other  causes  that  assuage  the  violence  of  party  are  the 
general  diffusion  of  knowledge  and  the  multiplication  of 
liberal  pursuits.  Ignorance  is  the  hotbed  of  party  prejudice 
and  party  detraction.  A  people  who  read  little,  and  that 
little  exclusively  the  production  of  the  partisan  press,  may  be 
grossly  duped  as  to  the  condition  and  interests  of  the  country, 
the  designs  and  actions  of  parties,  and  the  characters  of  men. 
But  an  enlightened  people,  whose  minds  are  stored  with 
knowledge,  —  who  read,  observe,  and  reflect  ;  who  know  the 
history  of  the  country,  and,  as  a  portion  of  it,  the  history  of 
parties,  instead  of  being  a  prey  to  the  exaggerated  statements 
of  the  political  press,  —  form  an  independent  opinion  of  men 
and  things,  and  are  able  to  correct  misstatements  and  rejudge 
prejudices.  The  well-informed  mind  has  other  objects  of 
interest  and  pursuit.  In  proportion  to  the  intelligence  of  a 
community  will  be  the  diversity  of  its  occupations  and  the 
variety  of  the  objects  which  invite  and  receive  the  attention 
of  active  minds.  Political  interests  are  less  keenly  pursued 
in  such  a  community  than  where  they  form  the  exclusive 
object  of  attention.  Other  great  questions  connected  with 
religious  and  moral  improvement,  social  progress,  the  cause 
of  education,  and  the  advancement  of  the  elegant  and  useful 
arts,  engage  the  thoughts  of  the  active  and  the  inquisitive. 
These  liberal  pursuits  bring  those  together  whom  politics 
separate,  and  show  men  that  their  opponents  are  neither  the 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  573 

knaves  nor  the  fools  they  might  otherwise  have  thought 
them. 

But  especially  the  spirit  of  patriotism  may  be  looked  to, 
as  the  great  corrective  of  party  spirit.  Whatsoever  revives 
the  recollections  of  exploits  and  sacrifices,  of  which  all  share 
the  pride,  as  all  partake  the  benefits,  —  the  memory  of  the 
Pilgrim  fathers  and  revolutionary  patriots,  —  the  common 
glories  of  the  American  name,  —  serves  to  moderate  the 
growing  bitterness  of  party  animosity.  The  unkind  feelings 
kindled  by  present  struggles  are  subdued  by  the  generous 
emotions  with  which  we  contemplate  the  glorious  events  of 
our  history  and  the  illustrious  characters  with  which  it  is 
adorned.  It  is  scarcely  possible  for  men  who  have  just  united 
in  an  act  of  patriotic  commemoration,  —  who  have  repeated 
to  each  other,  with  mutual  pride,  the  names  of  a  common 
ancestry,  —  who  have  trod  together  the  field  of  some  great 
and  decisive  struggle,  —  who  have  assembled  to  join  in 
recalling  the  merits  of  some  friend  and  ornament  of  his  coun- 
try, —  to  go  away  and  engage  with  unmitigated  rancor  in  the 
work  of  party  defamation. 

Of  all  the  occasions  rightfully  redeemed  from  the  contam- 
ination of  party  feeling,  and  consecrated  to  union,  harmony, 
and  patriotic  affection,  the  day  we  celebrate  stands  first ;  for 
on  what  day  can  we  meet  as  brothers,  if  the  fourth  of  July 
sunders  us  as  partisans  ?  It  is  an  occasion  towards  which  no 
man  and  no  party  can  feel  indifferent,  —  in  which  no  man 
and  no  party  can  arrogate  an  exclusive  interest ;  for  which 
every  American  citizen,  in  proportion  as  he  has  sense  to  per- 
ceive the  blessings  which  have  fallen  to  his  lot,  and  sagacity 
to  mark  the  connection  of  the  independence  of  America 
with  the  progress  of  liberty  throughout  the  world,  must  feel 
the  same  profound  reverence.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  ever 
rejoice,  when  it  is  proposed  to  celebrate  the  fourth  of  July, 
without  distinction  of  party ;  for  this  reason,  that  on  this 
day  —  and  I  hope  not  on  this  day  alone  —  I  have  a  hand 
of  fellowship,  and  a  heart  warm  with  kind  feeling,  for  every 
patriotic  brother  of  the  great  American  family.  I  would  de- 
vote this  day,  not  to  the  discussion  of  topics  which  divide 


574  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  people,  but  to  the  memory  of  the  events  and  of  the  men 
which  unite  their  affections.  I  would  call  up,  in  the  most 
imposing  recollection,  the  venerated  images  of  our  patriotic 
ancestors.  I  would  strive  to  place  myself  in  the  actual 
presence  of  that  circle  of  sages,  whose  act  has  immortalized 
the  day.  As  they  rise  one  by  one  to  the  eye  of  a  grateful 
imagination,  my  heart  bows  down  at  the  sight  of  their 
venerable  features,  their  gray  hairs,  and  their  honorable 
scars  ;  and  every  angry  feeling  settles  into  reverence  and 
love. 

It  has  seemed  to  me,  fellow-citizens,  that  I  could  select  no 
topic  more  appropriate  to  the  occasion,  —  none  more  in  har- 
mony with  the  spirit  of  the  day,  and  the  feelings  which  have 
led  you  to  unite  in  celebrating  it,  —  than  the  character  of 
Washington.  Considered  as  the  great  military  leader  of  the 
revolution,  it  is  admitted,  on  every  side,  that  his  agency  in 
establishing  the  independence  of  the  country  was  more  im- 
portant than  that  of  any  other  individual.  It  is  not  less  certain 
that,  but  for  the  cooperation  of  Washington  in  the  federal 
convention,  and  the  universal  understanding  that  he  was  to 
fill  the  chief  magistracy  under  the  new  government,  the 
constitution  of  these  United  States  would  not  have  been 
adopted.  Let  me  not  seem  unjust  to  others.  The  perils  and 
trials  of  the  times,  —  the  voice  of  a  bleeding  country,  —  the 
high  tone  of  public  feeling,  —  the  sympathy  of  an  astonished 
and  delighted  age,  —  the  manifest  indications  of  a  providen- 
tial purpose  to  raise  up  a  new  state  in  the  family  of  nations, 
—  called  into  action  a  rare  assemblage  of  wise,  courageous, 
and  patriotic  men.  To  numbers  of  them  the  meed  of  well- 
deserved  applause  has  been,  and  in  all  time  will  be,  gratefully 
accorded.  My  own  poor  voice  has  never  been  silent  in  their 
praise,  and  when  hushed  on  that  theme,  may  it  never  be 
listened  to  on  any  other.  But  of  Washington  alone  it  has 
been  said,  with  an  aptitude  which  all  feel,  and  an  emphasis 
which  goes  to  the  heart,  that  he  was  "  First  in  war,  first  in 
peace,  and  first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen." 

Nor  let  it  be  thought,  fellow-citizens,  that  this  is  an  ex- 
hausted subject.  It  can  never  be  exhausted,  while  the  work 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  575 

of  his  hands,  the  monuments  of  his  achievements,  and  the 
fruits  of  his  counsels  remain.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  subject 
which  every  age  will  study,  under  new  lights ;  which  has 
enduring  relations,  not  only  with  the  fortunes  of  America, 
but  the  general  cause  of  liberty.  I  have,  within  a  few  weeks, 
seen  an  official  declaration  of  General  Santander,  the  enlight- 
ened chief  magistrate  of  the  republic  of  New  Grenada,  in 
which  he  avows  his  intention  to  decline  a  reelection,  and 
assigns  the  example  of  Washington  as  the  cause.  I  do  not 
believe  it  within  the  compass  of  the  most  active  imagination 
to  do  full  justice  to  the  effect  on  mankind  of  having  embod- 
ied, in  the  conspicuous  living  illustration  of  the  character  of 
Washington,  the  great  principles  which  should  govern  the 
conduct  of  a  patriotic  chief  magistrate,  in  a  representative 
government.  For  myself,  I  am  well  persuaded  that  the  pres- 
ent generation  is  better  able  to  do  justice  to  this  character, 
than  that  in  which  he  lived.  We  behold  it,  more  nearly  than 
our  predecessors,  entire  in  all  its  parts.  We  approach  it  free 
from  the  prejudices,  of  which,  under  the  influence  of  the 
passions  of  the  day,  even  the  purest  and  most  illustrious  men 
are  the  subjects  while  they  live.  Every  day  furnishes  new 
proofs  of  the  importance  of  his  services,  in  their  connection 
with  American  liberty  ;  and  I  am  sure,  that  instead  of  sinking 
into  comparative  obscurity  with  the  lapse  of  time,  the  char- 
acter of  Washington,  a  century  hence,  will  be  the  subject  of 
a  warmer  and  a  more  general  enthusiasm,  on  the  part  of  the 
friends  of  liberty,  than  at  the  present  day.  The  great  points 
in  his  character  are  living  centres  of  a  self-diffusive  moral 
influence,  which  is  daily  taking  effect,  and  which  is  destined 
still  more  widely  to  control  the  minds  and  excite  the  imagin- 
ations of  men. 

It  is  in  all  cases  difficult  for  contemporaries,  or  the  next 
generation,  to  do  full  justice  to  the  riches  of  a  character 
destined  to  command  the  respect  of  all  time.  It  is  a  part  of 
the  character,  that  it  contained  within  it  qualities  so  true, 
that,  while  they  conflict,  perhaps,  with  the  interests,  passions, 
and  prejudices  of  the  day,  they  justify  themselves  in  the  great 
experience  of  ages.  The  planets,  as  we  behold  them,  are 


576  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

sometimes  stationary,  and  sometimes  seem  to  retrograde. 
But  it  is  only  to  the  imperfect  sense  of  man  that  they  stand 
still,  and  move  backward ;  while,  in  reality,  they  are  ever 
rolling  in  majesty  along  their  orbits,  and  will  be  found,  at 
the  appointed  season,  to  have  compassed  the  heavens.  In- 
stead of  expecting  at  once  to  sound  the  depths  of  a  charac- 
ter like  Washington's,  it  requires  all  our  study  and  all  our 
vigilance  not  to  measure  such  a  character  on  the  scale  of  our 
own  littleness ;  not  to  estimate  it  from  a  partial  development 
of  its  influence.  A  great  character,  founded  on  the  living 
rock  of  principle,  is,  in  fact,  not  a  solitary  phenomenon,  to 
be  at  once  perceived,  limited,  and  described.  It  is  a  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence,  designed  to  have  not  merely  an  immediate, 
but  a  continuous,  progressive,  and  never-ending  agency.  It 
survives  the  man  who  possessed  it ;  survives  his  age,  — perhaps 
his  country,  his  language.  These,  in  the  lapse  of  time,  may 
disappear,  and  be  forgotten.  Governments,  tribes  of  men,  chase 
each  other,  like  the  shadows  of  summer  clouds  on  a  plain. 
But  an  earthly  immortality  belongs  to  a  great  and  good  char- 
acter. History  embalms  it ;  it  lives  in  its  moral  influence ; 
in  its  authority  ;  in  its  example  ;  in  the  memory  of  the  words 
and  deeds  in  which  it  was  manifested ;  and  as  every  age  adds 
to  the  illustrations  of  its  efficacy,  it  may  chance  to  be  the 
best  understood  by  a  remote  posterity. 

There  is,  however,  but  a  single  point  of  view,  in  which 
the  limits  of  the  occasion  will  allow  me  to  dwell  on  this 
great  theme,  —  more  suitable  for  a  volume  than  the  address 
of  an  hour,  —  and  that  is,  the  early  formation  of  the  char- 
acter of  Washington.  It  must  have  occurred  to  you  all,  in 
reading  the  history  of  the  revolution,  that  from  the  period  at 
which  Washington  assumed  the  chief  command,  he  was 
not  merely  the  head  of  the  army,  but,  to  all  practical  pur- 
poses, the  chief  magistrate  of  the  country.  Congress,  in 
fact,  conferred  on  him,  by  one  of  their  resolutions,  powers 
that  may,  without  exaggeration,  be  called  dictatorial.  The 
point,  then,  on  which  I  would  dwell,  is  this,  that  it  was 
absolutely  necessary,  for  the  prosperous  issue  of  the  revolu- 
tion, not  that  a  character  like  Washington's,  perfectly  quali- 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  577 

fied  for  the  duties  of  the  camp  and  the  council,  should  have 
gradually  formed  itself ;  this  would  not  have  sufficed  for  the 
salvation  of  the  country,  in  the  critical,  embarrassed,  often 
disastrous  state  of  affairs.  It  was  necessary,  not  that,  after 
having  for  some  years  languished  or  struggled  on,  beneath 
incompetent,  unsuccessful,  unpopular,  and  perhaps  faithless 
chieftains,  the  country  should  at  last  have  found  her  Wash- 
ington, when  her  spirit  was  broken,  her  resources  exhausted, 
her  character  discredited,  her  allies  disgusted,  —  in  short, 
when  Washington  himself  could  not  have  saved  her.  No  ; 
it  strikes  the  reflecting  mind  to  have  been  necessary,  abso- 
lutely necessary,  at  the  very  outset  of  the  contest,  to  have  a 
leader  possessed  of  all  the  qualities  which  were  actually  found 
in  him.  He  cannot  be  waited  for,  even  if  by  being  waited 
for  he  is  sure  to  be  found.  The  organization  of  the  army 
may  be  a  work  of  difficulty  and  time,  —  the  plan  of  confed- 
eration may  drag  tardily  along,  —  the  finances  may  plunge 
from  one  desperate  expedient  to  another,  —  expedition  after  ex- 
pedition may  fail ;  but  it  is  manifestly  indispensable,  that,  from 
the  first,  there  should  be  one  safe  governing  mind,  one  clear, 
unclouded  intellect,  one  resolute  will,  one  pure  and  patriotic 
heart,  placed  at  the  head  of  affairs  by  common  consent.  One 
such  character  there  must  be,  for  the  very  reason  that  all  other 
resources  are  wanting  ;  and,  with  one  such  character,  all  else 
in  time  will  be  supplied.  The  storm  sails  may  fly  in  ribbons 
to  the  wind ;  mast  and  topmast  may  come  down,  and  every 
billow  of  the  ocean  boil  through  the  gaping  seams  ;,  and  the 
brave  ship,  by  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  may  yet  ride  out  the 
tempest.  But  when  the  winds,  in  all  their  fury,  are  beating 
upon  her,  and  the  black  and  horrid  rocks  of  a  lee  shore  are 
already  hanging  over  the  deck,  and  all  other  hope  and 
dependence  fail,  if  then  the  chain  cable  gives  way,  she  must, 
with  all  on  board,  be  dashed  to  pieces.  I  own  I  regard  it, 
though  but  a  single  view  of  the  character  of  Washington,  as 
one  of  transcendent  importance,  that  the  commencement  of 
the  revolution  found  him  already  prepared  and  mature  for  the 
work  ;  and  that,  on  the  day  on  which  his  commission  was 
signed  by  John  Hancock,  —  the  immortal  seventeenth  of 
VOL.  i.  73 


678  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

June,  1775,  —  a  day  on  which  Providence  kept  an  even 
balance  with  the  cause,  and,  while  it  took  from  us  our  War- 
ren, gave  us  our  Washington,  —  he  was  just  as  consummate 
a  leader,  for  peace  or  for  war,  as  when,  eight  years  after,  he 
resigned  that  commission  at  Annapolis. 

His  father,  a  Virginia  gentleman  in  moderate  circum- 
stances of  fortune,  died  when  George  Washington  was  but 
ten  years  old.  His  surviving  parent* —  a  woman  fit  to  be  the 
mother  of  Washington  —  bestowed  the  tenderest  care  upon 
the  education  of  her  oldest  and  darling  son  ;  and  instilled 
into  his  mind  those  moral  and  religious  principles,  that  love 
of  order,  arid,  what  is  better,  that  love  of  justice  and  devout 
reliance  on  Providence  which  formed  the  basis  of  his  charac- 
ter. His  elder  brother,  Lawrence,  the  child  of  a  former 
marriage,  was  a  captain  in  the  British  army.  He  was  ordered 
with  his  company  to  Jamaica,  in  1741,  and  was  present  at  the 
capture  of  Porto  Bello,  and  at  the  disastrous  attack  on  Car- 
thagena,  to  which  Thomson  so  pathetically  alludes  in  the 
Seasons.  In  honor  of  Admiral  Vernon,  who  commanded 
those  expeditions,  Captain  Lawrence  Washington  gave  the 
name  of  Mount  Vernon  to  the  beautiful  estate  which  he  pur- 
chased on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  and  which,  at  his 
death,  he  bequeathed  to  his  brother  George. 

Influenced,  no  doubt,  by  the  example  of  his  brother,  but 
led  by  his  advice  to  engage  in  the  other  branch  of  the  service, 
George  Washington,  at  the  age  of  fourteen  years,  sought,  and 
obtained  a  midshipman's  warrant  in  the  British  navy.  Shall 
he  engage  in  this  branch  of  the  public  service,  on  which  his 
heart  is  bent  ?  Shall  his  feet  quit  the  firm  soil  of  his  country  ? 
Shall  he  enter  a  line  of  duty  and  promotion,  in  which,  if  he 
escape  the  hazards  and  gain  the  prizes  of  his  career,  he  can 
scarce  fail  to  be  carried  to  distant  scenes,  —  to  bestow  his 
energies  on  foreign  expeditions,  in  remote  seas,  perhaps  in 
another  hemisphere,  —  in  which  he  will  certainly  fail  of  the 
opportunity  of  preparing  himself,  in  the  camp  and  field  of  the 
approaching  war,  to  command  the  armies  of  the  revolution, 
and  not  improbably  sink  under  the  pestilential  climate  of  the 
West  Indies  and  the  Spanish  Main  ?  Such,  indeed,  seems 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  579 

aimost  inevitably  his  career.  He  desires  it ;  his  brother, 
standing  in  the  place  of  a  parent,  approves  it ;  the  warrant  is 
obtained.  But  nothing  could  overcome  the  invincible  repug- 
nance of  his  widowed  mother.  She  saw  only  the  dangers 
which  awaited  the  health,  the  morals,  and  the  life  of  her 
favorite  child  ;  and  her  influence  prevailed.  Thus  the  voice 
of  his  high  destiny  first  spoke  to  the  affections  of  the  youth- 
ful hero,  through  the  fond  yearnings  of  a  mother's  heart. 
He  abandoned  his  commission,  remained  beneath  the  paternal 
roof,  and  was  saved  to  the  country. 

The  early  education  of  Washington  was  confined  to  those 
branches  of  useful  knowledge  commonly  taught  in  English 
grammar  schools.  But  he  soon  entered  upon  a  course  of 
practical  education  singularly  adapted  to  form  him  for  his 
future  career.  He  is  to  lead  an  active  and  a  laborious  life, 
and  he  must  carry  to  it  a  healthy  frame.  Destined  for  the 
command  of  armies,  to  direct  the  movement  and  the  supply 
of  troops,  to  select  the  routes  of  march  and  the  points  of 
attack  and  defence,  —  to  wrestle  with  privation,  hunger,  and 
the  elements,  —  raised  up,  above  all,  to  perform  the  part  of  a 
great  and  patriotic  chieftain  in  the  revolutionary  councils  of  a 
new  country,  where  the  primeval  forest  had  just  begun  to 
yield  to  the  settler's  axe,  and  most  of  the  institutions  of 
society  and  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  a  good  part  of  the 
population  are  those  of  an  early  stage  of  improvement,  and, 
to  some  extent,  of  frontier  life  ;  —  with  this  destiny,  how 
shall  he  be  educated  ?  A  great  extent  and  variety  of  literary 
accomplishments  are  evidently  not  the  things  most  required 

It  is  impossible  to  read  the  account  of  his  early  years, 
without  feeling  that  he  was  thrown  upon  an  occupation, 
which,  without  being  particularly  attractive  to  a  young  man, 
able  to  indulge  his  taste  in  the  choice  of  a  pursuit,  was  un- 
questionably, of  all  pursuits,  the  best  adapted  to  form  the' 
youthful  Washington.  At  the  period  when  he  came  forward 
into  life,  the  attention  of  men  of  adventure,  in  Virginia,  had 
begun  to  turn  towards  the  regions  west  of  the  Blue  Ridge 
and  Alleghany  Mountains  ;  a  region  now  filled  with  a  dense 
population,  with  all  the  works  of  human  labor,  and  all  the 


580  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

bounties  of  a  productive  soil ;  then  shaded  by  the  native 
forest,  infested  with  its  savage  inhabitants,  and  claimed  as  the 
domain  of  France.  The  enterprise  of  the  English  solonists 
of  the  Atlantic  coast  was  beginning  to  move  boldly  forward 
into  the  interior.  The  destiny  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race, 
transplanted  to  this  continent,  had  too  long  awaited  its  fulfil- 
ment. The  charter  of  Virginia,  as  well  as  of  several  other 
of  the  colonies,  extended  from  sea  to  sea  ;  but  of  the  broad 
region  which  lay  to  the  south  and  east  of  the  Ohio,  —  a 
country  as  highly  favored  by  nature  as  any  on  which  Heaven 
sends  rain  and  sunshine,  —  the  comparatively  narrow  belt  to 
the  east  of  the  Blue  Ridge  was  all  that  was  yet  occupied  by 
compact  settlements.  But  the  bold  huntsman  had  followed 
the  deer  to  the  upper  waters  of  the  Potomac  ;  and  trapped  the 
beaver  in  his  still,  hereditary  pool,  among  the  western  slopes 
of  the  Alleghany.  The  intrepid  woodsman,  in  a  few  in- 
stances, had  fixed  his  log  cabin  on  the  fertile  meadows  which 
are  watered  by  the  tributaries  of  the  Ohio.  Their  reports  of 
the  fertility  of  the  unoccupied  region  excited  the  curiosity  of 
their  countrymen  ;  and,  just  as  Washington  was  passing  from 
boyhood  to  youth,  the  enterprise  and  capital  of  Virginia  were 
seeking  a  new  field  for  exercise  and  investment,  in  the  unoc- 
cupied public  domain  beyond  the  mountains. 

The  business  of  a  surveyor  immediately  became  one  of 
great  importance  and  trust,  for  no  surveys  were  executed  by 
the  government.  To  this  occupation,  the  youthful  Washing- 
ton, not  yet  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  well  furnished  with  the 
requisite  mathematical  knowledge,  zealously  devoted  himself. 
Some  of  his  family  connections  possessed  titles  to  large 
portions  of  public  land,  which  he  was  employed  with  them 
in  surveying.  Thus,  at  a  period  of  life,  when,  in  a  more 
advanced  stage  of  society,  the  intelligent  youth  is  occupied 
in  the  elementary  studies  of  the  schools  and  colleges,  Wash- 
ington was  carrying  the  surveyor's  chain  through  the  fertile 
valleys  of  the  Blue  Ridge  and  the  Alleghany  Mountains ; 
passing  days  and  weeks  in  the  wilderness,  beneath  the  shadow 
of  eternal  forests  ;  listening  to  the  voice  of  the  waterfalls 
which  man's  art  had  not  yet  set  to  the  healthful  music  of  the 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  581 

saw-mill  or  the  trip-hammer  ;  reposing  from  the  labors  of  the 
day  on  a  bear-skin,  with  his  feet  to  the  blazing  logs  of  a 
camp-fire  ;  and  sometimes  startled  from  the  deep  slumbers  of 
careless,  hard-working  youth,  by  the  alarm  of  the  Indian  war 
whoop.  This  was  the  gymnastic  school  in  which  Washing- 
ton was  brought  up  ;  in  which  his  quick  glance  was  formed, 
destined  to  range  hereafter  across  the  battle-field,  through 
clouds  of  smoke  and  bristling  rows  of  bayonets  ;  —  the  school 
in  which  his  senses,  weaned  from  the  taste  for  those  detesta- 
ble indulgences  miscalled  pleasures,  in  which  the  flower  of 
adolescence  so  often  languishes  and  pines  away,  were  early 
braced  up  to  the  sinewy  manhood  which  becomes  the 

"  Lord  of  the  lion  heart  and  eagle  eye." 

There  is  preserved  among  the  papers  of  Washington  a 
letter,  written  to  a  friend  while  he  was  engaged  on  his 
first  surveying  tour,  and  when  he  was  consequently  but  six- 
teen years  of  age.  I  quote  a  sentence  from  it,  in  spite  of  the 
homeliness  of  the  details,  for  which  I  like  it  the  better,  and 
because  I  wish  to  set  before  you,  not  an  ideal  hero,  wrapped 
in  cloudy  generalities  and  a  mist  of  vague  panegyric,  but  the 
real,  identical  man,  with  all  the  peculiarities  of  his  life  and 
occupation.  "  Your  letter,"  says  he,  "  gave  me  the  more 
pleasure,  as  I  received  it  among  barbarians  and  an  uncouth 
set  of  people.  Since  you  received  my  letter  of  October  last, 
I  have  not  slept  above  three  or  four  nights  in  a  bed  ;  but 
after  walking  a  good  deal  all  the  day,  I  have  lain  down  before 
the  fire,  upon  a  little  hay,  straw,  fodder,  or  a  bear-skin, 
whichever  was  to  be  had,  —  with  man,  wife,  and  children, 
like  dogs  and  cats  ;  and  happy  is  he  who  gets  the  berth 
nearest  the  fire.  Nothing  would  make  it  pass  off  tolerably 
but  a  good  reward.  A  doubloon  is  my  constant  gain  every 
day  that  the  weather  will  permit  my  going  out,  and  some- 
times six  pistoles.  The  coldness  of  the  weather  will  not 
allow  of  my  making  a  long  stay,  as  the  lodging  is  rather  too 
cold  for  the  time  of  year.  I  have  never  had  my  clothes  off, 
but  have  lain  and  slept  in  them,  except  the  few  nights  I  have 
been  in  Fredericksburg."'  If  there  is  an  individual  in  the 


582  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON 

morning  of  life,  in  this  assembly,  who  has  not  yet  made  his 
choice  between  the  flowery  path  of  indulgence  and  the  rough 
ascent  of  honest  industry,  —  if  there  is  one  who  is  ashamed 
to  get  his  living  by  any  branch  of  honest  labor,  —  let  him 
reflect  that  the  youth  who  was  carrying  the  theodolite  and 
surveyor's  chain  through  the  mountain  passes  of  the  Alle- 
ghanies,  in  the  month  of  March,  sleeping  on  a  bundle  of 
hay  before  the  fire,  in  a  settler's  log  cabin,  and  not  ashamed 
to  boast  that  he  did  it  for  his  doubloon  a  day,  is  George 
Washington ;  that  the  life  he  led  trained  him  up  to  command 
the  armies  of  United  America ;  that  the  money  he  earned 
was  the  basis  of  that  fortune  which  enabled  him  afterwards 
to  bestow  his  services,  without  reward,  on  a  bleeding  and 
impoverished  country ! 

For  three  years  was  the  young  Washington  employed,  the 
greater  part  of  the  time,  and  whenever  the  season  vvouM 
permit,  in  this  laborious  and  healthful  occupation; — and  I 
know  not  if  it  would  be  deemed  unbecoming,  were  a  thought- 
ful student  of  our  history  to  say  that  he  could  almost  hear 
the  voice  of  Providence,  in  the  language  of  Milton,  announce 
its  high  purpose  :  — 

"  To  exercise  him  in  the  wilderness ; 
There  he  shall  first  lay  down  the  rudiments 
Of  his  great  warfare,  ere  I  send  him  forth 
To  conquer ! " 

At  this  period,  the  military  service  in  all  countries  was 
sorely  infested  by  a  loathsome  disease,  not  known  to  the 
ancients,  supposed  to  have  been  generated  in  some  pestilential 
region  of  the  East,  and  brought  back  to  Europe  by  the 
crusaders,  —  an  ample  revenge  for  the  desolation  of  Asia. 
Long  since  robbed  of  its  terrors,  by  the  sublime  discovery  of 
Jenner,  it  is  now  hardly  known,  except  by  the  memory  of  its 
ravages.  But,  before  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  it  rarely 
happened  that  a  large  body  of  troops  was  brought  together 
without  the  appearance  among  them  of  this  terrific  malady, 
whose  approach  was  more  dreaded,  often  more  destructive, 
than  that  of  the  foe.  Shortly  before  the  career  of  Washing- 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  583 

ton  commenced,  this  formidable  disease  had  been  brought 
within  the  control  of  human  art,  by  the  practice  of  inocula- 
tion, which  was  introduced  into  England,  from  Turkey,  by 
the  wife  of  the  British  ambassador,  and  into  this  neighbor- 
hood by  Dr  Zabdiel  Boylston,  in  the  first  quarter  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  An  unfortunate  prejudice,  however, 
arose  in  many  minds  against  the  practice  of  inoculation.  It 
was  believed  to  be  an  unwarrantable  tempting  of  Providence 
voluntarily  to  take  into  the  frame  so  dangerous  a  disease.  In 
many  places,  its  introduction  was  resisted  by  all  the  force  of 
popuJnr  prejudice,  and  sometimes  of  popular  violence  ;  and  in 
the  colony  of  Virginia  it  was  prohibited  by  law.  At  the 
age  of  nineteen,  George  Washington  accompanied  his  elder 
brother,  already  mentioned,  and  whose  health  was  now  infirm, 
to  the  Island  of  Barbadoes.  Here  he  was  attacked  by  this 
terrific  malady,  in  the  natural  way ;  but  skilful  medical 
attendance  was  at  hand,  the  climate  mild,  the  season  favor- 
able, and,  on  the  twenty-fifth  day  from  the  commencement 
of  the  disease,  he  had  passed  through  it  in  safety.  He  was 
thus,  before  his  military  career  commenced,  placed  beyond 
the  reach  of  danger  from  this  cause.  In  the  very  first  cam- 
paign of  the  revolutionary  war,  the  small-pox  was  one  of  the 
most  dangerous  enemies  with  which  the  troops  under  Wash- 
ington were  obliged  to  contend.  It  broke  out  in  the  British 
army  in  Boston,  and  was  believed  by  General  Washington  to 
have  been  propagated  in  the  American  camp  by  persons  pur- 
posely inoculated  and  sent  into  the  American  lines.  How- 
ever this  might  be,  it  was  necessary  to  subject  the  American 
army  to  the  process  of  inoculation,  at  a  period,  when,  desti- 
tute as  they  were  of  powder,  an  attack  was  daily  expected 
from  the  royal  army.  But  the  beloved  commander  was  safe. 
The  time  had  now  arrived,  when  the  military  education 
of  Washington,  properly  so  called,  was  to  commence.  And 
in  the  circumstances  of  this  portion  of  his  life,  if  I  am  not 
greatly  deceived,  will  be  found  a  connection  of  the  character 
and  conduct  of  this  illustrious  man,  with  the  fortunes  and 
prospects  of  his  country,  which  cannot  be  too  much  admired 
nor  too  gratefully  acknowledged.  The  struggle  between  the 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

governments  of  France  and  England,  for  the  exclusive  pos- 
session of  the  American  continent,  was  a  principal  source  of 
the  European  wars  of  the  last  century.  The  successes  of 
each  contest  furnished  new  subjects  of  jealousy  ;  and  peace 
was  but  a  cessation  of  arms  preparatory  to  another  struggle. 
The  English  colonies,  favored  by  the  maritime  superiority  of 
the  mother  country,  had  possessed  themselves  of  the  Atlantic 
shore.  The  French  adventurers,  who  excelled  in  the  art  of 
gaining  the  affections  of  the  aborigines,  having  intrenched 
themselves  at  the  mouth  of  the  St  Lawrence  and  the  Missis- 
sippi, aimed,  by  a  chain  of  posts  through  the  whole  interior, 
at  all  events  to  prevent  the  progress  of  the  English  west- 
ward, and,  as  circumstances  should  favor  the  design,  to 
confine  them  within  constantly  reduced  limits ;  ultimately,  if 
possible,  to  bring  the  whole  coast  into  subjection  to  France. 
This  struggle  retarded,  for  a  century,  the  progress  of  civiliza- 
tion on  this  continent.  During  that  period,  it  subjected  the 
whole  line  of  the  frontier  to  all  the  horrors  of  a  remorseless 
border  and  savage  war.  It  resulted,  at  last,  in  the  entire 
expulsion  of  the  French  from  the  continent ;  in  the  reduction 
of  the  British  dominion  to  a  portion  of  that  territory  which 
had  been  wrested  from  the  French ;  and  in  the  establishment 
of  the  independence  of  the  United  States  of  America.  Every 
thing  preceding  the  year  1748,  when  the  treaty  of  Aix-la- 
Chapelle  was  concluded,  may  be  considered  as  preliminary  to 
that  grand  series  of  events  which  makes  the  day  we  celebrate 
an  era  in  the  history  of  the  world,  and  in  which  the  first  part 
was  performed  by  Washington. 

Previous  to  this  period,  the  fertile  region  west  of  the  Alle- 
ghany  Mountains,  and  now  containing  a  third  part  of  the 
population  of  the  United  States,  was  unoccupied  by  civilized 
man.  In  the  western  part  of  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia,  in 
Kentucky  and  all  the  states  directly  south  of  it,  in  the  entire 
region  north-west  of  the  Ohio  and  west  of  the  Mississippi, 
there  did  not,  less  than  ninety  years  ago,  arise  the  smoke  of 
a  single  hamlet  in  which  the  descendants  of  Englishmen 
dwelt.  On  the  return  of  peace  between  France  and  England, 
in  the  year  1748,  the  Ohio  Company  was  formid.  Its  object 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  585 

was  the  occupation  and  settlement  of  the  fertile  district  south- 
east of  the  Ohio  and  west  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains.  It 
consisted  of  a  small  number  of  gentlemen  in  Virginia  and 
Maryland,  with  one  associate  in  London,  Mr  Thomas  Han- 
bury,  a  distinguished  merchant  of  that  city.  The  elder 
brothers  of  George  Washington  were  actively  engaged  in  the 
enterprise.  A  grant  of  five  hundred  thousand  acres  of  land 
was  obtained  from  the  crown  ;  and  the  company  were 
obliged,  by  the  terms  of  the  grant,  to  introduce  a  hundred 
families  into  the  settlement  within  seven  years,  to  build  a 
fort,  and  provide  a  garrison  adequate  to  its  defence.  Out  of 
this  small  germ  of  private  enterprise  sprung  the  old  French 
war,  and,  by  no  doubtful  chain  of  cause  and  effect,  the  war 
of  American  independence. 

The  Ohio  Company  proceeded  to  execute  the  conditions  of 
the  grant.  Preparations  for  opening  a  trade  with  the  Indians 
were  commenced  ;  a  road  across  the  mountains  was  laid  out, 
substantially  on  the  line  of  the  present  national  road ;  and  an 
agent  was  sent  to  conciliate  the  Indian  tribes,  on  the  subject 
of  the  new  settlement.  In  1752,  the  tribes  entered  into  a 
treaty  with  the  Yirginia  commissioners,  in  which  they  agreed 
not  to  molest  any  settlements  which  might  be  formed  by  the 
company  on  the  south-eastern  side  of  the  Ohio.  On  the  faith 
of  this  compact,  twelve  families  of  adventurers  from  Vir- 
ginia, headed  by  Captain  Gist,  immediately  established  them- 
selves on  the  banks  of  the  Monongahela. 

The  French  colonial  authorities  in  Canada  viewed  these 
movements  with  jealousy.  Although  Great  Britain  and 
France  had  lately  concluded  a  treaty  of  peace,  emissaries 
were  sent  from  Canada  to  the  Indians  on  the  Ohio,  to  break 
up  the  friendly  relations  just  established  with  Virginia. 
Some  of  the  traders  were  seized  and  sent  to  France ;  and, 
by  order  of  the  French  ministry,  a  fort  was  immediately 
commenced  on  Buffalo  River,  as  a  position  from  which  the 
Indians  could  be  controlled  and  the  Virginians  held  in  check. 
These  proceedings  were  promptly  reported  to  Governor  Din- 
widdie  by  the  agents  of  the  Ohio  Company ;  and  the  governor 
VOL.  i.  74 


586  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

immediately  determined  to  make  them  the  subject  of  remon- 
strance to  the  commandant  of  the  French  fort. 

To  transmit  such  a  remonstrance  from  Williamsburg,  in 
Virginia,  to  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie,  was,  in  the  state  of  the 
country  at  that  time,  no  easy  matter.  A  distance  of  three 
or  four  hundred  miles  was  to  be  travelled,  the  greater  part  of 
the  way  through  a  wilderness.  Mountains  were  to  be 
climbed  and  rivers  crossed.  Tribes  of  savages  were  to  be 
passed  by  the  way ;  and  all  the  hazards  of  an  unfriendly 
Indian  frontier,  in  a  state  of  daily  increasing  irritation,  were 
to  be  encountered.  To  all  these  difficulties  the  season  of  the 
year  (it  was  now  the  month  of  November)  added  obstacles 
all  but  insuperable.  It  is  scarcely  matter  of  reproach,  there- 
fore, that  the  mission  was  declined  by  those  to  whom  Gov- 
ernor Dinwiddie  at  first  tendered  it. 

But  there  was  one  at  hand  by  whom  no  undertaking  was 
ever  declined,  however  severe  or  perilous,  which  was  enjoined 
by  duty,  or  which  promised  benefit  to  the  country.  On  his 
return  from  Barbadoes,  in  1752,  George  Washington,  then  in 
the  twentieth  year  of  his  age,  received  his  commission  as 
adjutant  of  militia  in  the  northern  neck  of  Virginia.  The 
colony  was  divided  into  four  military  districts  the  following 
year,  and  Washington  received  the  same  appointment  in  one 
of  them.  An  expectation  of  approaching  hostilities  prevailed, 
and  the  militifi  were  every  where  drilled,  as  in  preparation 
for  actual  service.  In  this  state  of  things,  Governor  Din- 
widdie proposed  to  Major  Washington  to  undertake  the  mis- 
sion to  the  French  commandant.  Washington  had  just 
inherited  the  fine  estate  of  Mount  Vernon ;  but  he  accepted 
the  tendered  appointment  with  alacrity,  and  started  on  his 
journey  the  following  day. 

At  the  frontier  settlements  on  the  Monongahela  above 
alluded  to,  he  was  joined  by  Captain  Gist,  an  intelligent  and 
brave  pioneer  of  civilization,  and  by  some  Indians  of  rank 
in  their  tribe,  who  were  to  add  their  remonstrances  to  those 
of  the  governor  of  Virginia.  After  encountering  all  the 
hardships  of  the  season  and  the  wilderness,  and  various 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  587 

embarrassments  arising  from  the  policy  of  the  French,  Wash- 
ington penetrated  to  their  post  and  performed  his  errand.  On 
the  return  of  the  party,  their  horses  failed,  from  the  inclem- 
ency of  the  weather  and  the  severity  of  the  march  ;  and 
Washington  and  his  companion  Gist,  (left  by  their  friendly 
Indians,)  with  their  packs  on  their  shoulders  and  guns  in 
their  hands,  were  compelled  to  make  the  dreary  journey  on 
foot.  They  were  soon  joined  by  Indians  in  the  French 
interest,  who  had  dogged  them  ever  since  they  left  the 
French  fort.  One  of  them  exerted  all  the  arts  of  savage 
cunning  to  get  possession  of  the  arms  of  Washington,  and 
lead  him  and  his  companion  astray  in  the  forest.  Baffled 
by  their  wariness  and  self-possession,  when  he  perceived 
them,  at  nightfall,  worn  down  by  the  fatigue  of  the  march, 
the  savage  turned  deliberately,  and,  at  a  distance  of  fifteen 
steps,  fired  at  Washington  and  his  companion.  The  Indian's 
rifle  missed  its  aim.  Washington  and  Gist  immediately 
sprang  upon  and  seized  him.  Gist  was  desirous  of  putting 
him  to  death ;  but  Washington  would  not  permit  his  life  to 
be  taken,  justly  forfeited  as  it  was.  After  detaining  him  to 
a  late  hour,  they  allowed  him  to  escape,  and  pursued  their 
own  journey,  worn  and  weary  as  they  were,  through  the 
livelong  watches  of  a  December  night. 

Well  knowing  that  the  savages  were  on  their  trail,  they 
dared  not  stop  till  they  reached  the  Alleghany,  a  clear  and 
rapid  stream,  which  they  hoped  to  be  able  to  cross  on  the 
ice,  the  only  poor  consolation  which  they  promised  them- 
selves from  the  stinging  severity  of  the  weather.  The  river 
unfortunately  was  neither  frozen  across  nor  wholly  open,  but 
fringed  with  broken  ice  for  fifty  yards  on  each  shore,  and  the 
middle  stream  filled  with  cakes  of  ice,  furiously  drifting 
down  the  current.  With  one  poor  hatchet,  to  use  Washing- 
ton's own  expression,  they  commenced  the  construction  of  a 
raft.  It  was  a  weary  day's  work,  and  not  completed  till  sun- 
set. They  launched  it  upon  the  stream,  but  were  soon  so 
surrounded  and  crushed  by  drifting  masses  of  ice,  that  they 
expected  every  moment  that  their  raft  would  go  to  pieces, 
and  they  themselves  perish.  Washington  put  out  his  pole  to 


588  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

stop  the  raft  till  the  fields  of  ice  should  float  by  ;  but  the 
raft  was  driven  forward  so  furiously  upon  his  pole  that  he 
himself,  holding  to  it,  was  violently  thrown  into  the  river, 
where  it  was  ten  feet  deep.  He  saved  his  life  by  clinging  to 
a  log :  but,  unable  to  force  the  raft  to  either  shore,  Washing- 
ton and  his  companion  left  it,  and  passed  the  night  on  an 
island  in  the  middle  of  the  river.  So  intense  was  the  cold, 
that  the  hands  and  feet  of  Captain  Gist,  hardy  and  experi- 
enced woodsman  as  he  was,  were  frozen.  Happily,  however, 
they  were  enabled,  on  the  following  morning,  to  cross  to  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  river  on  the  ice  —  a  circumstance  which 
no  doubt  saved  them  from  the  tomahawk  of  the  unfriendly 
Indians. 

Such  was  the  commencement  of  the  public  services  of  the 
youthful  hero,  as  related  with  admirable  simplicity  by  him- 
self, in  his  journal  of  the  expedition.  That  of  his  companion 
Gist,  though  never  yet  printed,  is  still  preserved  ;  *  and  states, 
much  more  particularly  than  it  is  done  by  Washington,  the 
murderous  attempt  of  the  Indian.  Such  was  the  journey 
undertaken  by  Washington,  at  a  season  of  the  year  when  the 
soldier  goes  into  quarters ;  in  a  state  of  weather  when  the 
huntsman  shrinks  from  the  inclemency  of  the  skies  ;  amidst 
perils,  from  which  his  escape  was  all  but  miraculous  ;  and 
this,  too,  not  by  a  penniless  adventurer  fighting  his  way, 
through  desperate  risks,  to  promotion  and  bread,  but  by  a 
young  man,  already  known  most  advantageously  in  the  com- 
munity, and  who,  by  his  own  honorable  industry  and  the 
bequest  of  a  deceased  brother,  was  already  in  possession  of 
a  fortune.  In  this  his  first  official  step,  taken  at  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  Washington  displayed  a  courage,  resolution, 
prudence,  disinterestedness,  and  fortitude,  on  a  small  scale, 
though  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  which  never  afterwards  failed 
to  mark  his  conduct.  He  seemed  to  spring  at  once  into 
public  life,  considerate,  wary,  and  fearless  ;  and  that  Provi- 
dence, which  destined  him  for  other  and  higher  duties, 


*  It  appeared  afterwards  in  the  fifth  volume  of  the  Collections  of  the 
Massachusetts  Historic.il  Society,  third  series. 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  589 

manifestly  extended  a  protecting  shield  over  his  beloved 
head. 

The  answer  of  the  French  commandant  to  the  remon- 
strance of  the  governor  of  Virginia  was  evasive  and  unsat- 
isfactory. A  regiment  was  immediately  enlisted;  Major 
"Washington,  on  the  ground  of  youth  and  inexperience, 
declined  being  a  candidate  for  the  place  of  colonel,  but 
solicited  and  accepted  the  second  command.  He  hastened 
with  two  companies  to  the  scene  of  action  beyond  the  Alle- 
ghanies,  and,  by  the  death  of  Colonel  Fry,  was  soon  left  in 
full  command  of  the  regiment.  He  had  never  served  a  cam- 
paign nor  faced  an  enemy.  The  French  and  Indians  were 
in  force  on  the  Ohio.  They  had  already  commenced  the 
erection  of  Fort  Duquesne,  on  the  site  of  Pittsburg  ;  and, 
hearing  of  the  approach  of  Washington,  sent  forward  a 
detachment  of  French  and  Indians,  to  reconnoitre  his  posi- 
tion. Informed  by  friendly  Indians  of  the  secret  advance  of 
this  detachment,  Washington,  who  was  never  taken  by  sur- 
prise, forced  a  march  upon  them  in  the  night,  and  overtook 
them  in  their  place  of  concealment.  A  skirmish  ensued,  in 
which,  with  the  loss  of  one  man  killed  and  two  or  three 
wounded,  the  party  of  French  and  Indians  were  defeated ; 
ten  of  them  being  killed,  including  their  commander,  Jumon- 
ville,  and  twenty-one  made  prisoners. 

This  bold  advance,  however,  was  necessarily  followed  by 
a  hasty  retreat.  The  regiment  of  Washington  counted  but 
three  hundred  ;  the  force  of  the  French  and  Indians  exceeded 
a  thousand.  Washington  reluctantly  fell  back  to  Fort  Neces- 
sity, a  hasty  work  on  the  meadows,  at  the  western  base  of 
the  mountains,  whose  name  sufficiently  shows  the  feelings 
with  which  the  youthful  commander  found  himself  compelled 
to  occupy  it.  Here  he  intrenched  himself,  and  waited  for 
reinforcements.  But  before  they  came  up,  the  joint  French 
and  Indian  army  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  fort.  A 
sharp  action  took  place,  on  the  third  of  July,  1754,  which 
was  kept  up  the  whole  day,  till  late  in  the  evening.  The 
American  force  was  considerably  reduced  ;  but  the  French 
commander  saw  that  he  had  to  do  with  men  who  were  deter- 


590  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

mined,  if  pushed  to  extremities,  to  sell  their  lives  dear.  He 
proposed  a  capitulation ;  a  parley  was  held  to  settle  its  terms. 
A  captain  in  the  Virginia  regiment,  and  the  only  man  in  it 
who  understood  the  French  language,  was  sent  by  Colonel 
Washington  to  treat  with  the  French  commander.  The  arti- 
cles of  capitulation,  drawn  up  in  French,  and  treacherously 
assented  to  by  the  Virginian  captain,  contained  the  assertion, 
that  Jumonville,  who,  as  was  just  observed,  fell  in  the  late 
skirmish,  was  assassinated.  These  articles  were  interpreted 
to  Washington  at  midnight,  under  a  drenching  rain,  among 
the  wrecks  of  the  battle,  amidst  heaps  of  the  dead  and  dying, 
and  after  a  severe  engagement  of  ten  hours.  By  a  base  mis- 
translation of  the  French  word  which  signifies  assassination, 
Washington  was  made  to  subscribe  an  article,  in  which  the 
death  of  Jumonville  was  called  by  that  revolting  name.  It 
was  not  until  his  return  to  Virginia  that  this  fraud  was  de- 
tected. On  the  following  day,  — THE  FOURTH  OF  JULY,  —  in 
virtue  of  this  capitulation,  Washington  led  out  the  remains 
of  his  gallant  regiment,  grieved,  but  not  dishonored.  He 
conducted  them  with  consummate  skill  through  the  ill- 
restrained  bands  of  Indians,  that  hovered  around  his  niarch> 
and  brought  them  safely  to  Fort  Cumberland.  Heaven  had 
in  reserve  for  him  a  recompense  for  the  disasters  of  this 
mournful  fourth  of  July,  when,  on  the  return  of  that  day, 
after  a  lapse  of  twenty-two  years,  it  found  him  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of  independent  and  United 
America ! 

These  incidents  aroused  the  attention  of  France  and  Eng- 
land, who  yet  stood  glaring  at  each  other,  in  an  attitude  of 
defiance  ;  reluctant  to  plunge  again  into  the  horrors  of  a  gen- 
eral war,  but  deeply  conscious  that  peace  could  not  be  pre- 
served. No  formal  declaration  of  war  was  made  in  Europe, 
but  both  governments  prepared  for  vigorous  action  in  Amer- 
ica. Two  veteran  regiments  were  sent  from  Great  Britain, 
destined  to  dislodge  the  French  from  Ohio.  They  were 
placed  under  the  command  of  the  brave,  headstrong,  self- 
sufficient,  and  unfortunate  Braddock.  By  an  extraordinary 
fatality  of  the  British  councils,  and  as  if  to  sow  the  seeds  of 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  59J 

division  and  weakness,  at  a  moment  when  every  nerve  of 
strength  required  to  be  strained,  an  ordinance  for  settling  the 
rank  of  the  army  was  promulgated,  in  virtue  of  which,  all 
officers  holding  British  commissions  were  to  take  rank  of  all 
holding  provincial  commissions ;  and  provincial  general  and 
field  officers  were  to  lose  their  commands,  when  serving  with 
those  commissioned  by  the  crown.  Colonel  Washington,  on 
the  promulgation  of  this  ill-conceived  order,  resigned  his 
commission  in  disdain ;  but  to  show  that  no  unworthy  mo- 
tive had  prompted  that  step,  and  happily  resolved  to  perse- 
vere in  the  arduous  school  of  dear-bought  experience,  he 
offered  his  services  to  General  Braddock,  as  an  aid,  and  they 
were  gladly  accepted.  Washington  fell  dangerously  sick  on 
the  march  towards  the  field  of  slaughter,  beyond  the  moun- 
tains ;  but  consented  to  be  left  behind,  at  the  positive  in- 
stances of  the  surgeon,  only  on  the  solemn  pledge  of  the 
general,  that  he  should  be  sent  for  before  an  action. 

Time  would  fail  me  to  recount  the  horrors  of  the  ninth  of 
July,  1755.  Washington,  emaciated  by  fatigue  and  fever, 
had  joined  the  army.  He  implored  the  ill-starred  general  to 
send  forward  the  Virginia  Rangers  to  scour  the  forest  in 
advance ;  he  besought  him  to  conciliate  the  Indians.  His 
counsels  were  unheeded ;  the  wretched  commander  moved 
forward  to  his  fate.  Washington  was  often  heard  to  say,  in 
the  course  of  his  lifetime,  that  the  most  beautiful  spectacle 
he  had  ever  witnessed  was  that  of  the  British  troops  on  this 
eventful  morning.  The  whole  detachment  was  clad  in  uni- 
form, and  moved  as  in  a  review,  in  regular  columns,  to  the 
sound  of  martial  music.  The  sun  gleamed  upon  their  bur- 
nished arms,  the  placid  Monongahela  flowed  upon  their  right, 
and  the  deep  native  forest  overshadowed  them,  with  solemn 
grandeur,  on  their  left.*  It  was  a  bright  midsummer's  day, 
and  every  bosom  swelled  with  the  confident  expectation  of 
victory.  A  few  hours  pass,  and  the  forest  rings  with  the  yell 
of  the  savage  enemy ;  the  advance  of  the  British  army,  under 
Colonel  Gage,  afterwards  the  governor  of  Massachusetts,  is 

«  Sparks's  Writings  of  Washington,  Vol.  II.  p.  469. 


592  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

driven  back  on  the  main  body  ;  the  whole  force,  panic-struck 
confounded,  and  disorganized,  after  a  wild  and  murderous 
conflict  of  three  hours,  falls  a  prey  to  the  invisible  foe. 
They  ran  before  the  French  and  Indians  "  like  sheep  before 
the  dogs."  Of  eighty-six  officers,  sixty-one  were  killed  and 
wounded.  The  wretched  general  had  four  horses  shot  under 
him,  and  received  at  last  his  mortal  wound,  according  to  a 
prevalent  tradition,  from  one  of  his  own  men.  The  Virginia 
Rangers  were  the  only  part  of  the  force  that  behaved  with 
firmness ;  and  the  disordered  retreat  of  the  British  veterans  was 
actually  covered  by  these  American  militiamen.* 

Washington  was  the  guardian  angel  of  the  day.  He  was 
every  where,  in  the  hottest  of  the  fight.  "  I  expected  every 
moment,"  said  Dr  Craik,  his  friend,  "  to  see  him  fall."  His 
voice  was  the  only  one  which  commanded  obedience.  Two 
horses  were  killed  under  him,  and  four  bullets  passed  through 
his  garments.  No  common  fortune  preserved  his  life.  Fif- 
teen years  after  the  battle,  Washington  made  a  journey  to  the 
Great  Kenhawa,  accompanied  by  Dr  Craik.  While  exploring 
the  wilderness,  a  band  of  Indians  approached  them,  headed 
by  a  venerable  chief.  He  told  them,  by  an  interpreter,  the 
errand  on  which  he  came.  "  I  come,"  said  he,  "  to  behold 
my  great  father  Washington.  I  have  come  a  long  way  to 
see  him.  I  was  with  the  French  in  the  battle  of  the  Monon- 
gahela.  I  saw  my  great  father  on  horseback,  in  the  hottest 
of  the  battle.  I  fired  my  rifle  at  him  many  times,  and  bade 
my  young  men  also  fire  their  rifles  at  him.  But  the  Great 
Spirit  turned  away  the  bullets,  and  I  saw  that  my  great  father 
could  not  be  killed  in  battle."  This  anecdote  rests  on  the 
authority  of  Dr  Craik,  the  comrade  and  friend  of  Washing- 
ton, the  physician  who  closed  his  eyes.  Who  needs  doubt, 
it  ?  Six  balls  took  effect  on  his  horses  and  in  his  garments. 
Who  does  not  feel  the  substantial  truth  of  the  tradition? 
Who,  that  has  a  spark  of  patriotic  or  pious  sentiment  in  his 
bosom,  but  feels  an  inward  assurance  that  a  heavenly  pres- 
ence overshadowed  that  field  of  blood,  and  preserved  the 

*  See  note  at  the  end. 


THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON.  593 

great  instrument  of  future  mercies  ?  Yes,  gallant  and  beloved 
youth,  ride  safely  as  fearlessly  through  that  shower  of  death ! 
Thou  art  not  destined  to  fall  in  the  morning  of  life,  in  this 
distant  wilderness.  That  wan  and  wasted  countenance  shall 
yet  be  lighted  up  with  the  sunshine  of  victory  and  peace ! 
The  days  are  coming  and  the  years  draw  nigh,  when  thy 
heart,  now  bleeding  for  thy  afflicted  country,  shall  swell  with 
joy,  as  thou  leadest  forth  her  triumphant  hosts  from  a  war  of 
independence ! 

From  this  period,  the  relation  of  Washington  to  his  coun- 
try was  sealed.  It  is  evident  that  his  character,  conduct,  arid 
preservation,  —  though  he  was  scarcely  twenty-three  years 
of  age, — had  arrested  the  public  attention,  and  awakened 
thoughtful  anticipations  of  his  career.  I  confess,  there  is 
something  which  I  am  unable  to  fathom,  in  the  hold  which 
he  seems  already  to  have  gained  over  the  minds  and  imagin- 
ations of  men.  Never  did  victorious  consul  return  to  repub- 
lican Rome,  loaded  with  the  spoils  of  conquered  provinces, 
with  captive  thousands  at  his  chariot  wheels,  an  object  of 
greater  confidence  and  respect,  than  Washington,  at  the  close 
of  two  disastrous  campaigns,  from  one  of  which  he  was 
able  to  save  his  regiment  only  by  a  painful  capitulation ;  in 
the  other,  barely  escaping  with  his  life  and  the  wrecks  of  the 
army.  He  had  formed  to  himself,  on  fields  of  defeat  and 
disaster,  a  reputation  for  consummate  bravery,  conduct,  and 
patriotism.  A  sermon  was  preached  to  the  volunteers  of 
Hanover  county,  in  Virginia,  by  the  Rev.  Samuel  Davies, 
afterwards  president  of  Princeton  College,  in  which  he  uses 
this  memorable  language :  "  As  a  remarkable  instance  of 
patriotism,  I  may  point  out  to  the  public  that  heroic  youth, 
Colonel  Washington,  whom  I  cannot  but  hope  Providence 
has  hitherto  preserved,  in  so  signal  a  manner,  for  some  im- 
portant service  to  his  country." 

The  entire  completion  of  this  extraordinary  prediction 
was,  of  course,  reserved  for  a  future  day ;  but  from  the 
moment  of  its  utterance,  its  fulfilment  began.  Terror  and 
havoc  followed  at  the  heels  of  Braddock's  defeat.  The  fron- 
tier settlements  were  broken  up ;  the  log  cabins  were  burned ; 
VOL.  i.  75 


594  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

their  inmates  massacred,  or  driven  in  dismay  across  the 
mountains.  A  considerable  force  was  raised  in  Virginia3  and 
Washington  was  appointed  its  commander-in-chief.  But  the 
councils  of  England  were  weak  and  irresolute,  and  no  effi- 
cient general  head  as  yet  controlled  those  of  the  colonies. 
The  day  star  of  Pitt  was  near,  but  had  not  yet  ascended 
above  the  horizon.  Disaster  followed  disaster  on  the  fron- 
tiers of  Virginia,  and  Washington,  for  two  years  and  a  half, 
was  placed  in  precisely  the  position  which  he  was  afterwards 
to  fill  in  the  revolutionary  war.  A  reluctant  and  undisciplined 
militia  was  to  be  kept  embodied  by  personal  influence,  — 
without  pay,  without  clothes,  without  arms.  Sent  to  defend 
an  extensive  mountain  frontier,  with  forces  wholly  inadequate 
to  the  object ;  the  sport  of  contradictory  orders  from  a  civil 
governor,  inexperienced  in  war ;  defrauded  by  contractors ; 
tormented  with  arrogant  pretensions  of  subaltern  officers  in 
the  royal  army ;  weakened  by  wholesale  desertions  in  the 
hour  of  danger  ;  misrepresented  by  jealous  competitors ;  tra- 
duced ;  maligned,  —  the  youthful  commander-in-chief  was 
obliged  to  foresee  every  thing,  to  create  every  thing,  to 
endure  every  thing,  to  effect  every  thing,  without  encourage- 
ment, without  means,  without  cooperation.  His  correspond- 
ence during  the  years  1756  and  1757  is,  with  due  allow- 
ances for  the  difference  of  the  field  of  operations,  the  precise 
counterpart  of  that  of  the  revolutionary  war,  twenty  years 
later.  You  see  it  all  —  you  see  the  whole  man  —  in  a  letter 
to  Governor  Dinwiddie,  of  April  twenty-second,  1756:  — 

"Your  honor  may  see  to  what  unhappy  straits  the  inhabitants  and  myself 
are  reduced.  I  am  too  little  acquainted,  sir,  with  pathetic  language,  to 
attempt  a  description  of  the  people's  distresses,  though  I  have  a  generous 
soul,  sensible  of  wrongs,  and  swelling  for  redress.  But  what  can  I  do  ?  I 
see  their  situation,  know  their  danger,  and  participate  their  sufferings, 
without  having  it  in  my  power  to  give  them  further  relief  than  uncertain 
promises.  In  short,  I  see  inevitable  destruction,  in  so  clear  a  light,  that 
unless  vigorous  measures  are  taken  by  the  Assembly,  and  speedy  assist- 
ance sent  from  below,  the  poor  inhabitants  that  are  now  in  forts  must  una- 
voidably fall,  while  the  remainder  are  flying  before  a  barbarous  foe.  In 
fine,  the  melancholy  situation  of  the  people ;  the  little  prospect  of  assist- 
ance ;  the  gross  and  scandalous  abuse  cast  upon  the  officers  in  general ; 
which  is  reflecting  on  me  in  particular,  for  suffering  misconduct  of  such 


THE    YOU1H    OF    WASHINGTON.  595 

extraordinary  kinds  ;  and  the  distant  prospect,  if  any,  of  gaining  honor  or 
reputation  in  the  service,  —  cause  me  to  lament  the  hour  tuat  gave  me  a 
commission,  and  would  induce  me,  at  any  other  time  than  this  of  imminent 
danger,  to  resign,  without  one  hesitating  moment,  a  command  from  which  I 
never  expect  to  reap  either  honor  or  benefit ;  but  on  the  contrary,  have  an 
almost  absolute  certainty  of  incurring  displeasure  below,  while  the  murder 
of  helpless  families  may  be  laid  to  my  account  here !  The  supplicating 
tears  of  the  women,  the  moving  petitions  of  the  men,  melt  me  into  such 
deadly  sorrow,  that  I  solemnly  declare,  if  I  know  my  own  mind,  I  could 
offer  myself  a  willing  sacrifice  to  the  butchering  enemy,  provided  that 
would  contribute  to  the  people's  ease ! " 

And  here  I  close  the  detail.  You  behold  in  this  one  ex- 
tract your  Washington,  complete,  mature,  ready  for  the  salva- 
tion of  his  country.  The  occasion  that  calls  him  out  may 
come  soon,  or  it  may  come  late,  or  it  may  come  both  soon 
and  late ;  whenever  it  comes,  he  is  ready  for  the  work.  A 
miguided  ministry  may  accelerate,  or  measures  of  conciliation 
retard,  the  struggle ;  but  its  hero  is  prepared.  His  bow  of 
might  is  strung,  and  his  quiver  hangs  from  his  shoulders, 
stored  with  three-bolted  thunders.  The  summons  to  the 
mighty  conflict  may  come  the  next  year,  —  the  next  day;  it 
will  find  the  rose  of  youth  on  his  cheek,  but  it  will  find  him 
wise,  cautious,  prudent,  and  grave :  it  may  come  after  the 
lapse  of  time,  and  find  his  noble  countenance  marked  with 
the  lines  of  manhood,  but  it  will  find  him  alert,  vigorous, 
unexhausted.  It  may  reach  him  the  next  day,  on  the  fron- 
tiers, in  arms  for  the  protection  of  the  settlement ;  it  may 
reach  him  at  the  meridian  of  life,  in  the  retirement  of  Mount 
Vernon  ;  it  may  reach  him  as  he  draws  near  to  the  grave  ;  but 
it  will  never  take  him  by  surprise.  It  may  summon  him  to 
the  first  Congress  at  Philadelphia ;  it  will  find  him  brief  of 
speech,  in  matter  weighty,  pertinent,  and  full ;  in  resolution 
firm  as  the  perpetual  hills,  in  personal  influence  absolute.  It 
may  call  him  to  the  command  of  armies ;  the  generous  rash- 
ness of  youth  alone  will  be  chastened  by  the  responsibility 
of  his  great  trust,  but  in  all  else  he  will  exhibit  unchanged 
that  serene  courage,  with  which  he  rode  unharmed  through 
the  iron  sleet  of  Braddock's  field.  It  may  call  him  to  take 
part  in  the  convention,  assembled  to  give  a  constitution  to 


596  THE    YOUTH    OF    WASHINGTON. 

the  rescued  and  distracted  country.  The  soldier  has  disap- 
peared ;  the  statesman,  the  patriot  is  at  the  post  of  duty ;  he 
sits  down  in  the  humblest  seat  of  the  civilian,  till  in  the 
assembly  of  all  that  is  wisest  in  the  land,  he,  by  one  accord, 
is  felt  the  presiding  mind.  It  may  call  him  to  the  highest 
trust  of  the  new-formed  government ;  he  will  conciliate  the 
affections  of  the  country  in  the  dubious  trial  of  the  constitu- 
tion ;  and  he  will  organize,  administer,  and  lay  down  the 
arduous  duties  of  a  chief  magistracy  unparalleled  in  its  char- 
acter, without  even  the  suspicion  of  swerving  in  a  single 
instance  from  the  path  of  rectitude.  Lastly,  the  voice  of  a 
beloved  country  may  call  him  for  a  third  time,  on  the  verge 
of  threescore  years  and  ten,  to  the  field.  The  often  sacri- 
ficed desire  for  repose,  the  number  and  variety  of  services 
already  performed,  and  his  declining  years,  might  well  exempt 
him ;  but  he  will  obey  the  sacred  call  of  his  country  in  his 
age,  as  he  obeyed  it  in  his  youth.  As  he  gave  to  his  fellow- 
citizens  the  morning,  he  will  give  them  the  evening,  of  his 
existence ;  he  will  exhaust  the  last  hour  of  his  being,  and 
breathe  his  dying  breath,  in  the  service  of  his  country. 


NOTE. 


SEE  PAGE  592. 

THE  tradition  that  General  Braddock  was  shot  by  one  of  his  own 
men  has  been,  according  to  Mr  Sparks,  long  current  in  Pennsylvania, 
and  rests  upon  the  declaration  of  a  provincial  soldier  who  was  in  the  action. 
It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  contemptuous  light  in  which  the  provincials  were 
regarded  by  the  unfortunate  general,  may  have  made  him  enemies  among 
them.  But  as  he  was  in  the  thickest  of  the  battle,  it  is  not  necessary  to 
resort  to  the  supposition  of  treachery  to  account  for  his  death. 

The  following  letter  from  Colonel  Orme,  aid  of  General  Braddock,  and 
written  to  the  governor  of  Pennsylvania  a  few  days  after  the  action,  will 
be  read  with  interest,  as  an  authentic  document  for  the  history  of  this 
important  event:  — 

FOBT  CUMBERLAND,  July  18,  1755. 
MY  BEAR  SIR  : 

I  am  so  extremely  ill  in  bed  with  the  wound  I  have  received  in  my  thigh, 
that  I  am  under  the  necessity  of  employing  my  friend,  Captain  Dobson,  to 
write  for  me. 

I  conclude  you  have  had  some  account  of  the  action  near  the  banks  of  the 
Monongahela,  about  seven  miles  from  the  French  fort:  as  the  reports  spread 
are  very  imperfect,  what  you  have  heard  must  be  so  too.  You  should  have 
had  more  early  accounts  of  it,  but  every  officer  whose  business  it  was  to 
have  informed  you  was  either  killed  or  wounded,  and  our  distressful  situa- 
tion puts  it  out  of  our  power  to  attend  to  it  so  much  as  we  would  otherwise 
have  done. 

The  9th  instant  we  passed  and  repassed  the  Monongahela,  by  advancing 
first  a  party  of  three  hundred  men,  which  was  immediately  followed  by 
another  of  two  hundred.  The  general,  with  the  column  of  artillery,  bag- 
gage, and  the  main  body  of  the  army,  passed  the  river  the  last  time  about 
one  o'clock.  As  soon  as  the  whole  had  got  on  the  fort  side  of  the  Mononga- 
hela, we  heard  a  very  heavy  and  quick  fire  in  our  front.  We  immediately 
advanced  in  order  to  sustain  them ;  but  the  detachment  of  the  two  hundred 
and  three  hundred  men  gave  way,  and  fell  back  on  us,  which  caused  such 
confusion  and  struck  so  great  a  panic  among  our  men,  that  afterwards  no 
military  expedient  could  be  made  use  of  that  had  any  effect  on  them.  The 
men  were  so  extremely  deaf  to  the  exhortations  of  the  general  and  the  offi- 
cers, that  they  fired  away  in  the  most  irregular  manner  all  their  ammunition, 
and  then  ran  off,  leaving  to  the  enemy  the  artillery,  ammunition,  provisions, 
and  baggage ;  nor  could  they  be  persuaded  to  stop  till  they  got  as  far  as 

(597) 


598  NOTE. 

Gist's  plantation,  nor  there  only  a  part,  many  of  them  proceeding  as  far  as 
Colonel  Dunbar's  party,  who  lay  six  miles  on  this  side.  The  officers  were 
absolutely  sacrificed  by  their  unparalleled  good  behavior,  advancing  some- 
times in  bodies  and  sometimes  separately,  hoping  by  such  examples  to  engage 
the  soldiers  to  follow  them,  but  to  no  purpose. 

The  general  had  five  horses  shot  under  him,  and  at  last  received  a  wound 
through  his  right  arm  into  his  lungs,  of  which  he  died  the  18th  inst.  Poor 
Shirley  was  shot  through  the  head ;  Captain  Morris  wounded.  Mr  Wash- 
ington had  two  horses  shot  under  him,  and  his  clothes  shot  through  in 
several  places,  behaving  the  whole  time  with  the  greatest  courage  and  resolu- 
tion. Sir  Peter  Racket  was  killed  on  the  spot ;  Colonel  Burton  and  Sir  John 
St  Clair  wounded ;  and  enclosed  I  have  sent  you  a  list  of  the  killed  and 
wounded,  according  to  as  exact  an  account  as  we  are  able  to  get. 

Upon  our  proceeding  with  the  whole  convoy  to  the  Little  Meadows,  it  was 
found  impracticable  to  advance  in  that  manner ;  the  general  therefore  ad- 
vanced with  twelve  hundred  men,  with  the  necessary  artillery,  ammunition, 
and  provision,  leaving  the  main  body  of  the  convoy  under  the  command  of 
Colonel  Dunbar,  with  orders  to  join  him  as  soon  as  possible.  In  this  man- 
ner we  proceeded  with  safety  and  expedition  till  the  fatal  day  I  have  just 
related ;  and  happy  it  was  that  this  disposition  was  made ;  otherwise  the 
whole  must  have  either  starved  or  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  as 
numbers  would  have  been  of  no  service  to  us,  and  our  provision  was  all 
lost. 

As  our  number  of  horses  was  so  much  reduced,  and  those  extremely  weak, 
and  many  carriages  being  wanted  for  the  wounded  men,  occasioned  our 
destroying  the  ammunition  and  superfluous  part  of  the  provisions  left  in 
Colonel  Dunbar's  convoy,  to  prevent  its  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

As  the  whole  of  the  artillery  is  lost,  and  the  troops  are  so  extremely  weak- 
ened by  deaths,  wounds,  and  sickness,  it  is  judged  impossible  to  make  any 
further  attempts ;  therefore  Colonel  Dunbar  is  returning  to  Fort  Cumberland, 
with  every  thing  he  is  able  to  bring  with  him. 

I  propose  remaining  here  until  my  wound  will  suffer  me  to  remove  to  Phil- 
adelphia ;  from  thence  I  shall  make  all  possible  despatch  to  England.  What- 
ever commands  you  may  have  for  me,  you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  direct 
to  me  here. 

I  am,  with  the  greatest  sincerity,  your  most  obedient  and  most  humble 
servant,  ROBERT  ORME. 

By  the  particular  disposition  of  the  French  and  Indians,  it  is  impossible  to 
judge  of  the  numbers  they  had  that  day  in  the  field. 

As  the  general's  chariot  is  to  be  disposed  of,  I  should  be  glad  to  know  if 
you  would  have  it  again.  It  has  been  at  this  place  since  our  departure  from 
hence.  If  you  propose  taking  it  again,  I  will  send  it  to  you,  and  bring  the 
general's  coach  back.  Captain  Winn's  compliments  attend  you,  with  Mr 
Washington's. 

P.  S.  Writing  to  you  as  a  friend,  I  flatter  myself  you  will  excuse  the 
hurry  in  which  this  is  wrote. 

To  the  Hon.  Gov.  SHARPS. 


EDUCATION  FAVORABLE  TO  LIBERTY,  KNOWLEDGE, 
AND  MORALS.* 


THE  place  of  our  meeting,  the  season  of  the  year,  and  the 
occasion  which  has  called  us  together,  seem  to  prescribe  to 
us  the  general  topics  of  our  discourse.  We  are  assembled 
within  the  precincts  of  a  place  of  education.  It  is  the  sea- 
son of  the  year  at  which  the  seminaries  of  learning  through- 
out the  country  are  dismissing  to  the  duties  of  life  that  class 
of  their  students  whose  collegiate  course  is  run.  The  im- 
mediate call  which  has  brought  us  together  at  this  time  is 
the  invitation  of  the  members  of  the  literary  societies  of  this 
highly  respectable  and  fast  rising  institution.  Agreeably 
to  academical  usage,  on  the  eve  of  their  departure  from  a 
spot  endeared  to  them  by  all  the  pleasant  associations  of  col- 
legiate life,  they  are  desirous,  by  one  more  act  of  literary  com- 
munion, to  strengthen  the  bond  of  intellectual  fellowship  and 
alleviate  the  regrets  of  separation.  In  the  entire  uncertainty 
of  all  that  is  before  us,  for  good  or  for  evil,  there  is  nothing 
more  nearly  certain  than  that  we,  who  are  here  assembled 
to-day,  shall  never,  in  the  providence  of  God,  be  all  brought 
together  again  in  this  world.  Such  an  event  is  scarcely  more 
within  the  range  of  probability  than  that  the  individual 
drops,  which,  at  this  moment,  make  up  the  rushing  stream 
of  yonder  queen  of  the  valley,-)-  mounting  in  vapor  to  the, 
clouds,  and  scattered  to  the  four  winds,  will,  at  some  future 
period,  be  driven  together  and  fall  in  rains  upon  the  hills,  and 

*  Address  delivered  before  the  literary  societies  of  Amherst  College. 
August  25,  1835. 
•f  The  Connecticut  River. 

(599) 


600          EDUCATION  FAVORABLE  TO 

flow  down  and  recompose  the  identical  river  that  is  now 
spreading  abundance  and  beauty  before  our  eyes.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  dread  summons  which  comes  to  all  when  least 
expected,  you  will  scarce  step  out  of  this  sanctuary  of  your 
intellectual  worship  before  you  will  find  how  widely  the 
paths  of  life  diverge,  not  more  so  in  the  literal  sense  of  the 
word  than  in  the  estrangement  which  results  from  variety  of 
pursuit,  opinion,  party,  and  success.  Influenced  by  the  feel- 
ings which  this  reflection  inspires,  it  is  natural  that  we  should 
pause ;  that  we  should  give  our  minds  up  to  the  meditations 
which  belong  to  the  place,  to  the  occasion,  and  the  day ; 
that  we  should  inquire  into  the  character  of  that  general 
process  in  which  you  are  now  taking  so  important  a  step  ; 
that  we  should  put  our  thoughts  in  harmony  with  the  objects 
that  surround  us,  and  thus  seek,  from  the  hour  as  it  flies,  to 
extract  some  abiding  good  impression,  and  to  carry  away 
some  memorial  that  will  survive  the  moment. 

The  multiplication  of  the  means  of  education  and  the 
general  diffusion  of  knowledge,  at  the  present  day,  are  topics 
of  universal  remark.  There  are  twelve  collegiate  institutions 
in  New  England,  whose  commencement  is  observed  during 
the  months  of  August  and  September,  and  which  will  send 
forth,  the  present  year,  on  an  average  estimate,  about  four 
hundred  graduates.  There  are  more  than  fifty  other  institu- 
tions, of  the  same  general  character,  in  other  parts  of  the 
United  States.  The  greater  portion  of  them  are  in  the 
infancy  of  their  existence  and  usefulness,  but  some  of  them 
compare  advantageously  with  our  older  New  England  insti- 
tutions. Besides  the  colleges,  there  are  the  schools  for  theo- 
logical, medical,  and  legal  education,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
on  the  other,  the  innumerable  institutions  for  preparatory  or 
elementary  instruction,  from  the  infant  schools,  to  which  the 
fond  and  careful  mother  sends  her  darling  lisper,  not  yet  quite 
able  to  articulate,  but  with  the  laudable  purpose  of  getting 
him  out  of  the  way,  up  to  the  high  schools  and  endowed 
academies,  which  furnish  a  competent  education  for  all  the 
active  duties  of  life.  Besides  these  establishments  for  edu- 
cation of  various  character  and  name,  societies  for  the  pro- 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.          601 

motion  of  useful  knowledge,  mechanics'  institutes,  lyceums, 
and  voluntary  courses  of  lectures,  abound  in  many  parts  of 
the  country,  and  perform  a  very  important  office  in  carrying 
on  the  great  work  of  -instruction.  Lastly,  the  press,  by  the 
cheap  multiplication  of  books,  and  especially  by  the  circula- 
tion of  periodical  works  of  every  form  and  description,  has 
furnished  an  important  auxiliary  to  every  other  instrument 
of  education,  and  turned  the  whole  community,  so  to  say, 
into  one  great  monitorial  school.  There  is  probably  not  a 
newspaper  of  any  character,  published  in  the  United  States, 
which  does  not,  in  the  course  of  the  year,  convey  more  use- 
ful information  to  its  readers  than  is  to  be  found  in  the 
twenty-one  folios  of  Albertus  Magnus,  light  as  he  was  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  I  class  all  these  agencies  under  the  gen- 
eral name  of  the  means  of  education,  because  they  form  one 
grand  system  by  which  knowledge  is  imparted  to  the  mass 
of  the  community,  and  the  mind  of  the  age  —  with  the  most 
various  success,  according  to  circumstances  —  is  instructed, 
disciplined,  and  furnished  with  its  materials  for  action  and 
thought. 

These  remarks  are  made  in  reference  to  this  country ;  but, 
in  some  countries  of  Europe,  all  the  means  of  education 
enumerated,  with  an  exception  perhaps  in  the  number  of 
newspapers,  exist  to  as  great  an  extent  as  in  our  own. 
Although  there  are  portions  of  Europe  where  the  starless 
midnight  of  the  mind  still  covers  society  with  a  pall  as  dreary 
and  impervious  as  in  the  middle  ages,  yet  it  may  be  safely 
said,  upon  the  whole,  that  not  only  in  America,  but  in  the 
elder  world,  a  wonderfully  extensive  diffusion  of  knowledge 
has  taken  place.  In  Great  Britain,  in  France,  in  Germany,  in 
Holland,  in  Sweden,  in  Denmark,  the  press  is  active,  schools 
are  numerous,  higher  institutions  for  education  abound,  asso- 
ciations for  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  flourish,  and  literature 
and  science,  in  almost  every  form,  are  daily  rendered  more 
cheap  and  accessible.  There  is,  in  fact,  no  country  in 
Europe  from  which  the  means  of  light  are  wholly  shut  out. 
There  are  universities  in  Austria  and 'Russia,  and  newspapers 
at  Naples  and  Constantinople. 
VOL.  i.  76 


602         EDUCATION  FAVORABLE  TO 

It  is  the  impulse  of  the  liberal  mind  to  rejtice  in  this 
manifest  progress  of  improvement,  and  we  are  daily  ex- 
changing congratulations  with  each  other  on  the  multiplica- 
tion, throughout  the  world,  of  the  means  of  education.  There 
are  not  wanting,  however,  those  who  find  a  dark  side  even  to 
such  an  object  as  this.  We  ought  not,  therefore,  either  to 
leave  a  matter  so  important  exposed  to  vague  prejudicial  sur- 
mises, on  the  one  hand ;  nor,  on  the  other,  should  we  rest 
merely  in  the  impulses  of  liberal  feeling  and  unreflecting 
enthusiasm.  We  should  fortify  ourselves,  in  a  case  of  such 
magnitude,  in  an  enlightened  conviction.  We  should  seek 
to  reduce  to  an  exact  analysis  the  great  doctrine,  that  the 
extension  of  the  means  of  education  and  the  general  diffusion 
of  knowledge  are  beneficial  to  society.  It  is  the  object  of 
the  present  address  to  touch  briefly  —  and  in  the  somewhat 
desultory  manner  required  on  such  an  occasion  —  on  some  of 
the  prominent  points  involved  in  this  great  subject ;  and  to 
endeavor  to  show  that  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  of  which 
we  have  spoken,  is  favorable  to  liberty,  to  science,  and  vir- 
tue j  to  social,  intellectual,  and  spiritual  improvement,  —  the 
only  three  things  which  deserve  a  name  below. 

I.  Although  liberty,  strictly  speaking,  is  only  one  of  the 
objects  for  which  men  have  united  themselves  in  civil 
societies,  it  is  so  intimately  connected  with  all  the  others, 
and  every  thing  else  is  so  worthless  when  liberty  is  taken 
away,  that  its  preservation  may  be  considered,  humanly 
speaking,  the  great  object  of  life  in  civilized  communities. 
It  is  so  essential  to  the  prosperous  existence  of  nations,  that 
even  where  the  theory  of  the  government  —  as  in  many 
absolute  monarchies  —  seems  to  subvert  its  very  principle,  by 
making  it  depend  on  the  will  of  the  ruler ;  yet  usage,  pre- 
scription, and  a  kind  of  beneficent  instinct  of  the  body  politic, 
secure  to  the  people  some  portion  of  practical  liberty.  Where 
political  interests  and  passions  do  not  interfere,  (which  they 
rarely  do  in  respect  to  the  private  rights  of  the  mass  of  the 
community,)  the  subjects  of  the  absolute  monarchies  of  the 
north  and  east  of  Europe  are  safe  in  the  enjoyment  of  life 
and  property.  Where  this  is  not  the  case,  —  where  a  des- 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.         603 

potic  theory  of  the  government  is  carried  out  into  a  despotic 
administration,  —  and  life,  rights,  and  property  are  habitually 
sacrificed  to  the  caprice  and  passions  of  men  in  power,  as  in 
all  the  despotisms  which  stretch  across  Asia,  from  the  Euxine 
to  the  Pacific,  there  the  population  is  kept  permanently 
degenerate,  barbarous,  and  wretched. 

Whenever  we  speak  of  liberty,  in  this  connection,  we  com- 
prehend under  it  legal  security  for  life,  personal  freedom,  and 
property.  As  these  are  equally  dear  to  all  men,  —  as  all  feel, 
with  equal  keenness  and  bitterness,  the  pang  which  extin- 
guishes existence,  the  chain  which  binds  the  body,  the  coer- 
cion which  makes  one  toil  for  another's  benefit,  —  it  follows, 
as  a  necessary  consequence,  that  all  governments  which  are 
hostile  to  liberty  are  founded  on  force ;  that  all  despotisms 
are,  what  some  by  emphasis  are  occasionally  called,  military 
despotisms.  The  degree  of  force  required  to  hold  a  popula- 
tion in  subjection,  other  things  being  equal,  is  in  direct  ratio 
to  its  intelligence  and  skill ;  its  acquaintance  with  the  arts 
of  life ;  its  sense  of  the  worth  of  existence ;  in  fine,  to  its 
spirit  and  character.  There  is  a  point,  indeed,  beyond  which 
this  rule  fails,  and  at  which  even  the  most  thoroughly  organ- 
ized military  despotism  cannot  be  extended  over  the  least 
intellectual  race  of  subjects,  serfs,  or  slaves.  History  presents 
us  with  the  record  of  numerous  servile  wars,  and  peasants* 
wars,  from  the  days  of  Spartacus  to  those  of  Tupac- Amaru 
and  Pugatschef ;  in  which,  at  the  first  outbreak,  all  the  ad- 
vantages of  authority,  arms,  concert,  discipline,  skill,  have 
availed  the  oppressor  nothing  against  humanity's  last  refuge, 
the  counsel  of  madness,  and  the  resources  of  despair. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  liberty  is  promoted  by  the 
general  diffusion  of  knowledge.  The  first  is  by  disabusing 
the  minds  of  men  of  the  theoretical  frauds,  by  which  arbi- 
trary governments  are  upheld.  It  is  a  remark  almost,  if  not 
quite,  without  exception,  that  all  governments  unfriendly  to 
well-regulated  liberty  are  founded  on  the  basis  of  some  reli- 
gious imposture  ;  the  arm  of  military  violence  is  clothed  with 
the  enervating  terrors  of  superstition.  The  Oriental  nations, 
as  far  back  as  our  accounts  run,  worshipped  their  despots 


604  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

as  divinities,  and  taught  this  monstrous  adulation  to  the 
successors  of  Alexander.  The  Roman  emperors,  from  the 
time  of  Julius  Csesar,  were  deified ;  and  the  absolutism  of 
modern  times  rests  on  a  basis  a  little  more  refined,  but 
not  more  rational.  The  divine  right  of  Henry  VIII.  or 
of  Charles  V.  was  no  better,  in  the  eye  of  an  intelligent 
Christian,  than  that  of  their  contemporary,  Solyman  the 
Magnificent. 

Superstitions  like  these,  resting,  like  all  other  superstitions, 
on  ignorance,  vanish  with  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  like 
the  morning  mists  on  yonder  river  before  the  rising  sun ;  and 
governments  are  brought  down  to  their  only  safe  and  just 
basis  —  the  welfare  and  consent  of  the  governed.  The 
entire  cause  of  modern  political  reform  has  started  with  the 
establishment  of  this  principle,  and  no  example  is  more  con- 
spicuous than  that  which,  for  the  magnitude  of  the  revolu- 
tion, and  the  immensity  of  its  consequences,  is  called  The 
Reformation  ;  a  change  which,  on  account  of  the  temporal 
usurpations  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  the  intrusion  of  its 
power  into  the  affairs  of  foreign  countries,  and  the  right 
claimed  by  the  pope  to  command  the  obedience  of  subject 
and  sovereign,  was  not  less  a  political  than  a  religious  revo- 
lution. Throughout  this  great  work,  the  course  and  conduct 
of  Luther  present  a  most  illustrious  example  of  the  efficacy 
of  a  diffusion  of  knowledge,  of  an  appeal  to  the  popular 
mind,  in  breaking  the  yoke  of  the  oppressor,  and  establishing 
a  rational  freedom.  When  he  commenced  the  great  enter- 
prise, he  stood  alone.  The  governments  acknowledged  the 
supremacy  of  the  Roman  pontiff.  The  teachers  of  the 
universities  and  schools  were,  for  the  most  part,  regular 
priests,  bound  not  only  by  the  common  tie  of  spiritual  alle- 
giance, but  by  the  rules  of  the  monastic  orders  to  which  they 
belonged.  The  books  of  authority  were  exclusively  those 
of  the  schoolmen,  implicitly  devoted  to  the  church,  filled 
with  fantastical  abstractions,  with  a  meagre  and  unprofitable 
logic,  and  written  in  a  dead  language.  "  In  this  state  of 
things,"  says  Lord  Bacon,  "Martin  Luther,  conducted,  no 
doubt,  by  a  higher  Providence,  but  in  a  discourse  of  reason, 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.          605 

finding  what  a  province  he  had  undertaken  against  the  bishop 
of  Rome  and  the  degenerate  traditions  of  the  church,  and 
finding  his  own  solitude,  being  no  ways  aided  by  the  opin- 
ions of  his  own  time,  was  enforced  to  awake  all  antiquity, 
and  to  call  former  times  to  his  succor,  to  make  a  party  against 
the  present  time.  So  that  the  ancient  authors,  both  in  divin- 
ity and  humanity,  which  had  long  time  slept  in  libraries, 
began  generally  to  be  read  and  revolved.  This,  by  conse- 
quence, did  draw  on  a  necessity  of  a  more  exquisite  travel  in 
the  languages  original,  wherein  those  authors  did  write,  for  a 
better  understanding  of  those  authors,  and  the  better  advan- 
tages of  pressing  and  applying  their  words.  And  thereof 
grew  again  a  delight  in  their  manner  and  style  of  phrase,  and 
an  admiration  of  that  kind  of  writing ;  which  was  much 
furthered  and  precipitated  by  the  enmity  and  opposition  that 
the  propounders  of  those  primitive,  but  seeming  new,  opin- 
ions had  against  the  schoolmen,  who  were  generally  of  the 
contrary  part,  and  whose  writings  were  altogether  in  a  differ- 
ent style  and  form,  taking  liberty  to  coin  and  frame  new 
terms  of  art,  to  express  their  own  sense,  and  to  avoid  circuit 
of  speech,  without  regard  to  the  pureness,  pleasantness,  and, 
as  I  may  call  it,  lawfulness  of  the  phrase  or  word.  And 
again,  because  the  great  labor  then  was  with  the  people,  of 
whom  the  Pharisees  were  wont  to  say,  Execrabilis  ista  turba, 
qua  non  novit  legem.  For  the  winning  and  persuading  them, 
there  grew,  of  necessity,  in  chief  price  and  request,  eloquence 
and  variety  of  discourse,  as  the  fittest  and  forciblest  access 
into  the  capacity  of  the  vulgar  sort."* 

With  the  highest  reverence  for  the  authority  of  Lord 
Bacon,  I  would  say,  that  he  seems  to  me  to  have  somewhat 
mistaken  the  relative  importance  of  the  great  instruments  of 
the  reformation.  In  the  solemn  loneliness  in  which  Luther 
found  himself,  he  called  around  him  not  so  much  the  masters 
of  the  Greek  and  Latin  wisdom,  through  the  study  of  the 
ancient  languages,  as  he  did  the  mass  of  his  own  country- 
men, by  his  translation  of  the  Bible.  It  would  have  been  a 

*  Ijord  Bacon's  Works,  VoL  I.  p.  14,  quarto  ed. 


606  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

matter  of  tardy  impression  and  remote  efficacy,  had  he  done 
no  more  than  awake  from  the  dusty  alcoves  of  the  libraries 
the  venerable  shades  of  the  classic  teachers.  He  roused  up  a 
population  of  living,  thinking  men,  his  countrymen,  hi?  breth- 
ren. He  might  have  written  and  disputed  in  Latin  to  his 
dying  day,  and  the  elegant  Italian  scholars,  champions  of  the 
church,  would  have  answered  him  in  Latin  better  than  his 
own ;  and  with  the  mass  of  the  people,  the  whole  affair 
would  have  been  a  contest  between  angry  and  loquacious 
priests.  "  Awake  all  antiquity  from  the  sleep  of  the  libra- 
ries?" He  awoke  all  Germany  and  half  Europe  from  the 
scholastic  sleep  of  an  ignorance  worse  than  death.  He  took 
into  his  hands  not  the  oaten  pipe  of  the  classic  muse ;  he 
moved  to  his  great  work  not 


"to  the  Dorian  mood 

Of  flutes,  and  soft  recorders;" — 

he  grasped  the  iron  trumpet  of  his  mother  tongue,  —  the 
good  old  Saxon  from  which  our  own  is  descended,  the  lan- 
guage of  noble  thought  and  high  resolve, — and  blew  a  blast 
that  shook  the  nations  from  Rome  to  the  Orkneys.  Sover- 
eign, citizen,  and  peasant,  started  at  the  sound ;  and,  in  a 
few  short  years,  the  poor  monk,  who  had  begged  his  bread, 
for  a  pious  canticle,  in  the  streets  of  Eisenach,*  —  no  longer 
friendless,  no  longer  solitary,  —  was  sustained  by  victorious 
armies,  countenanced  by  princes,  and,  what  was  a  thousand 
times  more  important  than  the  support  of  the  brightest  crown 
in  Christendom,  revered  as  a  sage,  a  benefactor,  and  a  spirit- 
ual parent,  at  the  firesides  of  millions  of  his  humble  and 
grateful  countrymen. 

Nor  do  we  less  plainly  see  in  this,  as  in  numerous  other 
examples  in  the  modern  history  of  liberty,  the  more  general 
operation  of  the  influences  by  which  the  diffusion  of  knowl- 
edge promotes  rational  freedom.  Simply  to  overturn  the 
theoretical  sophisms  upon  which  any  particular  form  of 
despotism  may  rest,  is  but  to  achieve  a  temporary  work 

*  Luther's  Werke,  Th.  X.  524. 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MOEALS.          607 

While  the  mass  of  the  people  remain  ignorant,  to  under- 
mine the  system  of  oppression,  political  or  ecclesiastical,  un- 
der which,  at  any  time,  they  may  labor,  is  but  to  stagger  dark- 
ling from  one  tyranny  to  another.  It  is  for  this  reason,  — a 
truth  too  sadly  exemplified  in  the  history  of  the  world  for 
the  last  fifty  years^  —  that  countries  in  which  the  majority  of 
the  people  have  grown  up  without  knowledge,  stung  to  mad- 
ness by  intolerable  oppression,  may  make  a  series  of  plunges, 
through  scenes  of  successive  revolution  and  anarchy,  and 
come  out  at  last  drenched  in  blood,  and  loaded  with  chains. 

We  must  therefore  trace  the  cause  of  political  slavery  be- 
yond the  force  which  is  the  immediate  instrument,  —  beyond 
the  superstition  which  is  its  puissant  ally,  —  beyond  the  habit 
and  usage,  the  second  nature  of  governments  as  of  men,  — • 
and  we  shall  find  it  in  that  fatal  inequality  which  results  from 
hereditary  ignorance.  This  is  the  ultimate  and  solid  founda- 
tion of  despotism.  A  few  are  wise,  skilful,  learned,  wealthy  ; 
millions  are  uninformed,  and  consequently  unconscious  of 
their  rights.  For  a  few  are  accumulated  the  delights,  the 
honors,  and  the  excitements  of  life  ;  — for  all  the  rest  remains 
a  heritage  of  unenlightened  subjection  and  unrewarded  toil. 

Such  is  the  division  of  the  human  race  in  all  the  Oriental 
despotisms,  at  the  present  day.  Such  it  was  in  all  Europe, 
in  the  middle  ages.  Such,  in  some  parts  of  Europe,  it  still 
is :  such  it  naturally  must  be  every  where,  under  institutions 
which  keep  the  mass  of  the  people  ignorant.  A  nation  is 
numerically  reckoned  at  its  millions  of  souls.  But  they  are 
not  souls  ;  the  greater  part  are  but  bodies.  God  has  given 
them  souls,  but  man  has  done  all  but  annihilate  the  immor- 
tal principle  :  —  its  life-spring,  its  vigor,  its  conscious  power, 
are  broken  down,  and  the  people  lie  buried  in  subjection,  till, 
through  the  medium  of  the  understanding,  a  new  creation 
takes  place.  The  physical  creation  began  with  light ;  the 
intellectual  and  moral  creation  begins  with  light  also.  Chosen 
servants  of  Providence  are  raised  up  to  speak  the  word ; 
power  is  given  to  political  or  religious  reformers  to  pronounce 
the  decree ;  it  spreads  like  the  elemental  beam,  by  the  thou- 
sand channels  of  intelligence,  from  mind  to  mind,  and  a  new 


608  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

race  is  created.  Let  there  be  light ;  let  those  rational  intel- 
lects begin  to  think.  Let  them  but  look  in  upon  themselves, 
and  see  that  they  are  men,  and  look  upon  their  oppressors, 
and  see  if  they  are  more.  Let  them  look  round  upon  nature : 

—  "  It  is  my  Father's  domain  ;  shall  not  my  patient  labor  be 
rewarded  with  its  share  ?  "     Let  them  look  up  to  the  heavens  : 

—  "  Has  He  that  upholds  their  glorious  orbs,  and  who  has 
given  me  the  capacity  to  trace  and  comprehend  their  motions, 
designed  me  to  grovel,  without  redemption,  in  the  dust  be- 
neath my  feet,  and  exhaust  my  life  for  a  fellow-man  no  better 
than  myself? " 

These  are  the  truths,  which  in  all  ages  shoot  through  the 
understandings  to  the  hearts  of  men  :  they  are  what  our  rev- 
olutionary fathers  called  "  first  principles  ;  "  and  they  prepared 
the  way  for  the  revolution.  All  that  was  good  in  the  French 
revolution  was  built  upon  them.  They  are  the  corner  stone 
of  modern  English  liberty ;  they  emancipated  the  Nether- 
lands and  the  Swiss  cantons ;  and  they  gave  to  republican 
Greece  and  Rome  that  all  but  miraculous  influence  in  human 
affairs,  which  succeeding  ages  of  civil  discord,  of  abuse,  and 
degeneracy  have  not  yet  been  able  wholly  to  countervail. 
They  redress  the  inequalities  of  society.  When,  penetrated 
with  these  great  conceptions,  the  people  assert  their  native 
worth  and  inherent  rights,  it  is  wonderful  to  behold  how  the 
petty  badges  of  social  inequality,  the  emblems  of  rank  and 
of  wealth,  are  contemned.  Cincinnatus,  who  saved  Rome 
from  the  Sabines,  was  found  ploughing  his  own  land,  a  farm 
of  four  acres,  when  created  dictator.  Epaminondas,  who 
rescued  his  country  from  the  domination  of  Sparta,  and  was 
implored  by  the  emissaries  of  the  king  of  Persia  to  do  their 
master  the  honor  to  take  his  bribes,  possessed  no  other  prop- 
erty, when  he  fell  gloriously  at  Mantinaea,  than  the  humble 
utensils  for  cooking  his  daily  food.  A  single  bold  word,  he- 
roic exploit,  or  generous  sacrifice,  at  the  fortunate  crisis,  kin- 
dles the  latent  faculties  of  a  whole  population,  and  turns  them 
from  beasts  of  burden  into  men ;  excites  to  intense  action 
and  sympathetic  counsel  millions  of  awakened  minds,  and 
leads  them  forth  to  the  contest.  When  such  a  development 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.          609 

of  mental  energy  has  fairly  taken  place,  the  battle  is  fought 
and  won.  It  may  be  long  and  deadly,  it  may  be  brief  and 
bloodless.  Freedom  may  come  quickly  in  robes  of  peace,  or 
after  ages  of  conflict  and  war ;  but  come  it  will,  and  abide  it 
will,  so  long  as  the  principles  by  which  it  was  acquired  are 
held  sacred. 

Nor  let  us  forget,  that  the  dangers  to  which  liberty  is  ex- 
posed are  not  all  on  the  side  of  arbitrary  power.  That  pop- 
ular intelligence,  by  which  the  acquisition  of  rational  freedom 
is  to  be  made,  is  still  more  necessary  to  protect  it  against 
anarchy.  Here  is  the  great  test  of  a  people,  who  deserve 
their  freedom.  Under  a  parental  despotism,  the  order  of  the 
state  is  preserved,  and  life  and  property  are  protected,  by  the 
strong  arm  of  the  government.  A  measure  of  liberty  —  that 
is,  safety  from  irregular  violence  —  is  secured  by  the  constant 
presence  of  that  military  power,  which  is  the  great  engine  of 
subjection.  But  under  a  free  government,  there  is  nothing 
but  the  intelligence  of  the  people  to  keep  the  people's  peace. 
Order  must  be  preserved,  not  by  a  military  police  or  regiments 
of  horse-guards ;  but  by  the  spontaneous  concert  of  a  well- 
informed  population,  resolved  that  the  rights  which  have  been 
rescued  from  despotism  shall  not  be  subverted  by  anarchy. 
As  the  disorder  of  a  delicate  system  and  the  degeneracy  of  a 
noble  nature  are  spectacles  more  grievous  than  the  corruption 
of  meaner  things,  so,  if  we  permit  the  principle  of  our  gov- 
ernment to  be  subverted,  havoc,  terror,  and  destruction,  beyond 
the  measure  of  ordinary  political  catastrophes,  will  be  our  lot. 
This  is  a  subject  of  intense  interest  to  the  people  of  the  United 
States  at  the  present  time.  To  no  people,  since  the  world 
began,  was  such  an  amount  of  blessings  and  privileges  ever 
given  in  trust.  No  people  was  ever  so  eminently  made  the 
guardians  of  their  own  rights;  and  if  this  great  experiment 
of  rational  liberty  should  here  be  permitted  to  fail,  I  know 
not  where  or  when  among  the  sons  of  Adam  it  will  ever  be 
resumed. 

II.  But  it  is  more  than  time  to  proceed  to  the  second  point, 
which  I  proposed  briefly  to  illustrate,  —  the  favorable  influ- 
ence of  the  extension  of  the  means  of  education,  and  the 
VOL.  i.  77 


610  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

diffusion  of  knowledge,  on  the  progress  of  sound  science.  It 
is  a  pretty  common  suggestion,  that  while  the  more  abundant 
means  of  popular  education  existing  at  the  present  day,  may 
have  occasioned  the  diffusion  of  a  considerable  amount  of 
superficial  knowledge,  the  effect  has  been  unfavorable  to  the 
growth  of  profound  science.  I  am  inclined  to  think  this 
view  of  the  subject  entirely  erroneous  —  an  inference  by  no 
means  warranted  by  the  premises  from  which  it  is  drawn. 
It  is  no  doubt  true,  that,  in  consequence  of  the  increased 
facilities  for  education,  the  number  of  students  of  all  descrip- 
tions, both  readers  and  writers,  is  almost  indefinitely  multi- 
plied ;  and  with  this  increase  in  the  entire  number  of  persons 
who  have  enjoyed,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  advantages  for 
improving  their  minds,  the  number  of  half-taught  and  super- 
ficial pretenders  has  become  proportionably  greater.  Educa- 
tion, which,  at  some  periods  of  the  world,  has  been  a  very 
rare  accomplishment  of  a  highly  gifted  and  fortunate  few,  — 
at  other  times,  an  attainment  attended  with  considerable  diffi- 
culty, and  almost  confined  to  professed  scholars,  —  has  be- 
come, in  this  country  at  least,  one  of  the  public  birthrights 
of  freemen,  and  like  every  other  birthright,  is  subject  to  be 
abused.  In  this  state  of  things,  those  who  habitually  look 
at  the  dark  side  of  affairs,  often  witnessing  the  arrogant 
displays  of  superficial  learning, — books  of  great  pretension 
and  little  value,  multiplied  and  circulated  by  all  the  arts  and 
machinery  of  an  enterprising  and  prosperous  age,  and  in  all 
things  much  forwardness  and  show,  often  unaccompanied  by 
worth  and  substance,  —  are  apt  to  infer  a  decline  of  sound 
learning,  and  look  back,  with  a  sigh,  to  what  they  imagine 
to  have  been  the  more  solid  erudition  of  former  days.  But 
I  deem  this  opinion  without  real  foundation  in  truth. 

It  is  an  age,  I  grant,  of  cheap  fame.  A  sort  of  literary 
machinery  exists,  of  which  the  patent  paper-mill,  the  power- 
press,  the  newspapers,  magazines,  and  reviews,  the  reading 
clubs  and  circulating  libraries,  are  some  of  the  principal  springs 
and  levers,  by  means  of  which  almost  any  thing,  in  the  shape 
of  a  book,  is  thrown  into  a  sort  of  notoriety,  miscalled  repu- 
tation. The  want  of  these  appliances  was  no  doubt  one 


LIBERTY      KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.         611 

cause  of  the  severer  revision  and  higher  finish  which  char- 
acterize the  literature  of  Greece  and  Rome ;  and  it  is  certain 
that  cheapness  of  printing  and  facility  of  circulation  have 
led  to  the  composition  and  publication  of  many  worthless 
books,  which  otherwise  would  never  have  seen  the  light.  But 
nothing  is  to  be  inferred  from  this  state  of  things,  in  dispar- 
agement of  the  learning  and  scholarship  of  the  age.  All  that 
it  proves  is,  that  with  a  vast  diffusion  of  useful  knowledge, 
with  an  astonishing  multiplication  of  the  means  of  education, 
and,  as  I  firmly  believe,  with  a  prodigious  growth  of  true 
science,  there  has  sprung  up,  by  natural  association,  a  host  of 
triflers  and  pretenders,  like  a  growth  of  rank  weeds,  with  a 
rich  crop,  on  a  fertile  soil. 

But  there  were  surely  always  pretenders  in  science  and 
literature,  in  every  age  of  the  world ;  nor  must  we  suppose, 
because  their  works  and  their  names  have  perished,  that  they 
existed  in  a  smaller  proportion  formerly  than  now.  Solomon 
intimates  a  complaint  of  the  number  of  books  in  his  day, 
which  he  probably  would  not  have  done,  if  they  had  been  all 
good  books.  The  sophists  in  Greece  were  s\vorn  pretenders 
and  dealers  in  words, — the  most  completely  organized  body 
of  learned  quacks  that  ever  existed.  Bavius  and  Msevius 
were  certainly  not  the  only  worthless  poets  in  Rome ;  and 
from  the  age  of  the  grammarians  and  critics  of  the  Alexan- 
drian school,  through  that  of  the  monkish  chroniclers  and 
the  schoolmen  of  the  middle  ages,  and  the  mystics  of  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  the  kingdom  of  learned 
dulness  and  empty  profession  has  been  kept  up,  under  an 
unbroken  succession  of  leaden  or  brazen  potentates.  If  the 
subjects  at  the  present  day  seem  more  numerous  than  for- 
merly, it  is  only  in  proportion  to  the  increase  in  the  entire 
numbers  of  the  reading  and  writing  world ;  and  because  the 
sagacious  hand  of  time  brushes  away  the  false  pretensions  of 
former  days,  leaving  real  scholarship  and  sound  learning  the 
more  conspicuous  for  standing  alone. 

But,  as  in  elder  days,  notwithstanding  this  unbroken  sway 
of  false  lore  and  vain  philosophy,  the  Jine  of  the  truly  wise 
and  soundly  learned  was  also  preserved  entire,  — as  the  lights 


612  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

of  the  world  have  in  all  former  ages  successively  risen,  illu- 
minating the  deep  darkness,  and  outshining  the  delusive  me- 
teors, —  so,  at  the  present  day,  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  there 
is  more  patient  learning,  true  philosophy,  fruitful  science,  and 
various  knowledge,  than  at  any  former  time.  By  the  side  of 
the  hosts  of  superficial,  arrogant,  and  often  unprincipled  pre- 
tenders, in  every  department,  there  is  a  multitude  innumera- 
ble of  the  devoted  lovers  of  truth,  whom  no  labor  can  exhaust, 
no  obstacles  can  discourage,  no  height  of  attainment  dazzle  ; 
and  who,  in  every  branch  of  knowledge,  sacred  and  profane, 
moral,  physical,  exact,  and  critical,  have  carried,  and  are  car- 
rying, the  glorious  banner  of  true  science  into  regions  of 
investigation  wholly  unexplored  in  elder  times. 

Let  me  not  be  mistaken.  I  mean  not  arrogantly  to  detract 
from  the  fame  of  the  few  great  masters  of  the  mind,  —  the 
gifted  few,  who,  from  age  to  age,  after  long  centuries  have 
intervened,  have  appeared,  and  have  risen,  as  all  are  ready  to 
allow,  above  all  rivalry.  Aftertime  alone  can  pronounce 
whether  this  age  has  produced  minds  worthy  to  be  classed  in 
their  select  circle.  But,  this  aside,  I  cannot  comprehend  the 
philosophy  by  which  we  assume  as  probable  —  nor  do  I  see 
the  state  of  facts  by  which  we  must  admit  as  actually  exist- 
ing—  an  intellectual  degeneracy  at  the  present  day,  either  in 
Europe  or  in  this  country.  I  see  not  why  the  multiplication 
of  popular  guides  to  partial  attainments,  why  the  facilities 
that  abound  for  the  acquisition  of  superficial  scholarship, 
should,  in  the  natural  operation  of  things,  either  diminish  the 
number  of  powerful  and  original  minds,  or  satisfy  their  ardent 
thirst  for  acquisition,  by  a  limited  progress.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  many  of  these  improvements  in  the  methods  of 
learning — many  of  the  aids  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge, 
which  are  the  product  of  the  present  time  —  are,  in  their 
very  nature,  calculated  to  help  the  early  studies  even  of 
minds  of  the  highest  order.  It  is  a  familiar  anecdote  of 
James  Otis,  that,  when  he  first  obtained  a  copy  of  Black- 
stone's  Commentaries,  he  observed,  with  emphasis,  that  if  he 
had  possessed  that  book  when  commencing  his  studies  of  the 
law,  it  would  have  saved  him  seven  years'  labor.  Would 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.  613 

those  seven  years  have  borne  no  fruit  to  a  mind  like  that  of 
James  Otis  ?  Though  the  use  of  elementary  treatises  of  this 
kind  may  have  the  effect  to  make  many  superficial  jurists, 
who  would  otherwise  have  been  no  jurists  at  all,  I  deem  it 
mere  popular  prejudice  to  suppose  that  the  march  of  original 
genius  to  the  heights  of  learning  has  been  impeded  by  the 
possession  of  these  modern  facilities  to  aid  its  progress.  To 
maintain  this  seems  to  be  little  else  than  to  condemn  as 
worthless  the  wisdom  of  the  ages  which  have  gone  before 
us.  It  is  surely  absurd  to  suppose  that  we  can  do  no  more 
with  the  assistance  of  our  predecessors  than  without  it ;  that 
the  teachings  of  one  generation,  instead  of  enlightening,  con- 
found and  stupefy  that  which  succeeds ;  and  that  "  when  we 
stand  on  the  shoulders  of  our  ancestors  we  cannot  see  so  far 
as  from  the  ground." 

On  the  contrary,  it  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  happiest 
laws  of  intellectual  progress,  that  the  judicious  labors,  the 
profound  reasonings,  the  sublime  discoveries,  the  generous 
sentiments,  of  great  intellects  rapidly  work  their  way  into 
the  common  channel  of  public  opinion,  find  access  to  the 
general  mind,  raise  the  universal  standard  of  attainment,  cor- 
rect popular  errors,  promote  arts  of  daily  application,  and 
come  home  at  last  to  the  fireside,  in  the  shape  of  increased 
intelligence,  skill,  comfort,  and  virtue,  which,  in  their  turn, 
by  an  instantaneous  reaction,  multiply  the  numbers  and 
facilitate  the  efforts  of  those  who  engage  in  the  further 
investigation  and  discovery  of  truth.  In  this  way,  a  constant 
circulation,  like  that  of  the  life-blood,  takes  place  in  the  intel- 
lectual world.  Truth  travels  down  from  the  heights  of  phi- 
losophy to  the  humblest  walks  of  life,  and  up  from  the 
simplest  perceptions  of  an  awakened  intellect  to  the  discov- 
eries which  almost  change  the  face  of  the  world.  At  every 
stage  of  its  progress  it  is  genial,  luminous,  creative.  When 
first  struck  out  by  some  distinguished  and  fortunate  genius, 
it  may  address  itself  only  to  a  few  minds  of  kindred  power. 
It  exists,  then,  only  in  the  highest  forms  of  science ;  it  cor- 
rects former  systems,  and  authorizes  new  generalizations. 
Discussion  and  controversy  begin  ;  more  truth  is  elicited,  more 


614  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

errors  exploded,  more  doubts  cleared  up,  more  phenomena 
drawn  into  the  circle,  unexpected  connections  of  kindred 
sciences  are  traced,  and,  in  each  step  of  the  progress,  the 
number  rapidly  grows  of  those  who  are  prepared  to  compre- 
hend and  carry  on  some  branches  of  the  investigation,  till, 
in  the  lapse  of  time,  every  order  of  intellect  has  been  kindled, 
from  that  of  the  sublime  discoverer  to  the  practical  machinist ; 
and  every  department  of  knowledge  been  enlarged,  from  the 
most  abstruse  and  transcendental  theory  to  the  daily  arts 
of  life. 

I  presume  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  deduce,  from  the 
discovery  and  demonstration  of  the  law  of  gravity,  attain- 
ments in  useful  knowledge,  which  come  home  every  day  to 
the  business  and  bosoms  of  men,  enlightening  the  mass  of 
the  community  who  have  received  a  common  education,  on 
points. concerning  which  the  greatest  philosophers  of  former 
times  were  at  fault.  Bold  as  the  remark  sounds,  there  is  not 
a  young  man  who  will  to-morrow  receive  his  degree  on  this 
stage  who  could  not  correct  Lord  Bacon  in  many  a  grave 
point  of  natural  science.  This  great  man  doubted  the  rota- 
tion of  the  earth  on  its  axis,  after  it  had  been  affirmed  by 
Copernicus,  Keppler,  and  Galileo.  He  states  positively  that 
he  judges  the  work  of  making  gold  possible,*  and  even  goes 
so  far,  after  condemning  the  procedure  of  the  alchemists,  as 
to  propound  his  own.  Finally,  he  says,  it  "  is  not  impossible, 
and  I  have  heard  it  verified,  that  upon  cutting  down  of  an 
old  timber  tree,  the  stub  hath  put  out  sometimes  a  tree  of 
another  kind,  as  that  beech  hath  put  forth  birch;"  "which, 
if  it  be  true,"  the  illustrious  chancellor  discreetly  adds,  "  the 
cause  may  be,  for  that  the  old  stub  is  too  scanty  of  juice  to 
put  forth  the  former  tree,  and  therefore  putteth  forth  a  tree  of 
a  smaller  kind,  that  needeth  less  nourishment."!  Surely  no 
man  can  doubt  that  the  cause  of  true  science  has  been  pro- 

*  The  world  hath  been  much  abused  by  the  opinion  of  making  gold. 
The  work  itself  I  judge  to  be  possible,  but  the  means  hitherto  propounded 
to  effect  it  are,  in  the  practice,  full  of  error  and  imposture ;  and,  in  the 
theory,  full  of  unsound  imaginations."  —  Lord  Bacon's  Works,  Vol.  I.  p.  204. 

t  Lord  Bacon's  Works,  Vol.  I.  p.  241. 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.          615 

moted  by  .such  a  diffusion  of  knowledge  as  has  eradicated 
even  from  the  common  mind  such  enormous  errors  as  these, 
from  which,  notwithstanding  their  enormity,  the  greatest 
minds  of  other  times  could  not  emancipate  themselves. 

It  is  extremely  difficult,  even  for  the  greatest  intellects,  to 
work  themselves  free  of  all  those  popular  errors  which  form 
a  part,  as  it  were,  of  the  intellectual  atmosphere  in  which  they 
have  passed  their  lives.  Copernicus  was  one  of  the  boldest 
theorists  that  ever  lived,  but  was  so  enslaved  by  the  existing 
popular  errors  as,  even  while  proposing  his  own  simple  and 
magnificently  beautiful  theory  of  the  heavens,  to  retain  some 
of  the  most  absurd  and  complicated  contrivances  of  the 
Ptolemaic  scheme.*  Kepler  was  one  of  the  most  sagacious 
and  original  of  philosophers,  and  the  laws  which  bear  his 
name  have  been  declared,  on  respectable  authority,  "the 
foundations  of  the  whole  theory  of  Newton;"  but  he 
believed  that  the  planets  were  monstrous  animals,  swimming 
in  the  ethereal  fluid,  and  speaks  of  storms  and  tempests  as 
the  pulmonary  heavings  of  the  great  Leviathan,  the  earth, 
breathing  out  hurricanes  from  its  secret  spiracles  in  the  val- 
leys and  among  the  hills.  It  may  raise  our  admiration  of 
this  extraordinary  man,  that  with  notions  so  confused  and 
irrational  he  should,  by  a  life  of  indefatigable  research,  dis- 
cover some  of  the  sublimest  laws  of  nature ;  but  no  one  can 
so  superstitiously  reverence  the  past  —  no  one  so  blindly 
undervalue  the  utility  of  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  —  as 
not  to  feel  that  these  absurdities  must  have  hung  like  a  mill- 
stone about  the  necks  of  the  strongest  minds  of  former  ages, 
and  dragged  them,  in  the  midst  of  their  boldest  flights,  to  the 
dust.  When  I  behold  minds  like  these,  fitted  to  range  with 
the  boldest  step  in  the  paths  of  investigation,  bound  down  by 
subjection  to  gross  prevailing  errors,  but  at  length,  by  a 
happy  effort  of  native  sense  or  successful  study,  grasping  ai 
rhe  discovery  of  some  noble  truth,  it  brings  to  my  mind 
Milton's  somewhat  fantastical  description  of  the  creation  of 

*  Dr  Small's  Account  of  the  Astronomical  Discoveries  of  Kepler,  Chap 
UI.  and  VIIL 


616  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

the  animals,  in  which  the  great  beasts  of  the  .forest,  not 
wholly  formed,  are  striving  to  be  released  from  their  native 
earth :  — 

"  now  half  appeared 

The  tawny  lion,  struggling  to  get  free 

His  hinder  parts ;   then  springs,  as  burst  from  bonds, 

And  rampant  shakes  his  brinded  mane." 

In  short,  when  we  consider  the  laws  of  the  human  mind,  and 
the  path  by  which  the  understanding  marches  to  the  dis- 
covery of  truth,  we  must  see  that  it  is  the  necessary  conse- 
quence of  the  general  extension  of  education  that  it  should 
promote  the  progress  of  science.  Since  the  time  of  Lord 
Bacon,  it  has  been  more  and  more  generally  admitted,  that 
the  only  path  to  true  knowledge  is  the  study  and  observation 
of  nature,  either  in  the  phenomena  of  the  external  creation, 
or  in  the  powers  and  operations  of  the  human  mind.  This 
does  not  exclude  the  judicious  use  of  books  which  record  the 
observations  and  the  discoveries  of  others,  and  are  of  inesti- 
mable value  in  guiding  the  mind  in  its  own  independent 
researches.  They  are,  in  fact,  not  its  necessary,  .but  its  most 
usual,  instruments ;  and  as  the  book  of  nature  is  never  so 
well  perused  as  with  the  assistance  of  the  learned  and  pru- 
dent who  have  studied  it  before  us,  so  the  true  and  profitable 
use  of  books  is  to  furnish  materials  on  which  other  minds 
can  act,  and  to  facilitate  their  observation  of  nature. 

I  know  not  where  I  could  find  a  better  illustration  of  their 
value,  and  of  their  peculiar  aptitude  to  further  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  than  in  the  admirable  report  on  the  geology  of 
Massachusetts,  which  has  recently  emanated  from  this  place.* 
Under  the  enlightened  patronage  of  the  commonwealth,  a 
member  of  the  faculty  of  this  institution  has  set  before  the 
citizens  of  the  state  such  a  survey  of  its  territory  —  such  an 
inventory  of  its  natural  wealth,  such  a  catalogue  of  its  pro- 
ductions in  the  animal,  the  vegetable,  and,  still  more,  in  the 
mineral  world  —  as  cannot  be  contemplated  without  gratifi- 

*  Report  on  the  geology,  mineralogy,  botany,  and  zoology  ot  Massa 
chusette,  by  Professor  Hitchcock. 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.          617 

cation  and  pride.  By  one  noble  effort  of  learned  industry 
and  vigorous  intellectual  labor,  the  whole  science  of  geology 
—  one  of  the  great  mental  creations  of  modern  times  —  has 
been  brought  home  and  applied  to  the  illustration  of  our 
native  state.  There  is  not  a  citizen  who  has  learned  to  read, 
in  the  humblest  village  of  Massachusetts,  from  the  hills  of 
Berkshire  to  the  sands  of  Nantucket,  who  has  not  now  placed 
within  his  reach  the  means  of  beholding,  with  a  well- 
informed  eye,  either  in  his  immediate  neighborhood,  or  in 
any  part  of  the  state  to  which  he  may  turn  his  attention, 
the  hills  and  the  vales,  the  rocks  and  the  rivers,  the  soil  and 
the  quarries,  and  the  mines.  Who  can  doubt,  that  out  of 
the  hundreds  —  the  thousands  —  of  liberal  minds,  in  every 
part  of  the  commonwealth,  which  must  thus  be  awakened 
to  the  intelligent  observation  of  nature,  thus  helped  over  the 
elementary  difficulties  of  the  science,  not  a  few  will  be  effec- 
tually put  upon  the  track  of  independent  inquiries  and  origi- 
nal attainments  in  science ! 

We  are  confirmed  in  the  conclusion  that  the  popular  diffu- 
sion of  knowledge  is  favorable  to  the  growth  of  science  by 
the  reflection,  that,  vast  as  the  domain  of  learning  is,  and 
extraordinary  as  is  the  progress  which  has  been  made  in 
almost  every  branch,  it  may  be  assumed  as  certain,  —  I  will 
not  say  that  we  are  in  its  infancy,  but  as  truth  is  as  various 
as  nature,  and  as  boundless  as  creation,  — that  the  discoveries 
already  made,  wonderful  as  they  are,  bear  but  a  small  propor- 
tion to  those  that  will  hereafter  be  effected.  In  -the  yet  unex- 
plored wonders  and  yet  unascertained  laws  of  the  heavens,  — 
in  the  affinities  of  the  natural  properties  of  bodies;  in  mag- 
netism, galvanism,  and  electricity  ;  in  light  and  heat ;  in  the 
combination  and  application  of  the  mechanical  powers ;  the 
use  of  steam ;  the  analysis  of  mineral  products,  of  liquid  and 
aeriform  fluids ;  in  the  application  of  the  arts  and  sciences  to 
improvements  in  husbandry,  to  manufactures,  to  navigation, 
to  letters,  and  to  education ;  in  the  great  department  of  the 
philosophy  of  the  mind,  and  the  realm  of  morals ;  and,  in 
short,  to  every  thing  .that  belongs  to  the  improvement  of 
man,  —  there  is  yet  a  field  of  investigation  broad  enough  to 
VOL.  i.  78 


618  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

satisfy  the  most  eager  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  diversified 
enough  to  suit  every  variety  of  taste  and  order  of  intellect. 
For  the  peaceful  victories  of  the  mind,  that  unknown  and 
unconquered  world,  for  which  Alexander  wept,  is  forever 
near  at  hand,  hidden  indeed,  as  yet,  behind  the  veil  with 
which  nature  shrouds  her  undiscovered  mysteries,  but  stretch- 
ing all  along  the  confines  of  the  domain  of  knowledge,  some- 
times nearest  when  least  suspected.  The  foot  has  not  yet 
pressed,  nor  the  eye  beheld,  it ;  but  the  mind,  in  its  deepest 
musings,  in  its  widest  excursions,  will  sometimes  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  hidden  realm, — a  gleam  of  light  from  the 
Hesperian  island  —  a  fresh  and  fragrant  breeze  from  off  the 
undiscovered  land, 

"Sabsean  odors  from  the  spicy  shore," 

which  happier  voyagers  in  aftertimes  shall  approach,  explore, 
and  inhabit. 

Who  has  not  felt,  when,  with  his  very  soul  concentred  in 
his  eyes,  while  the  world  around  him  is  wrapped  in  sleep,  he 
gazes  into  the  holy  depths  of  the  midnight  heavens,  or  wan- 
ders in  contemplation  among  the  worlds  and  systems  that 
sweep  through  the  immensity  of  space,  —  who  has  not  felt 
as  if  their  mystery  must  yet  more  fully  yield  to  the  ardent, 
unwearied,  imploring  research  of  patient  science  ?  Who  does 
not,  in  those  choice  and  blessed  moments  in  which  the  world 
and  its  interests  are  forgotten,  and  the  spirit  retires  into  the 
inmost  sanctuary  of  its  own  meditations,  and  there,  uncon- 
scious of  every  thing  but  itself  and  the  Infinite  Perfection, 
of  which  it  is  the  earthly  type,  and  kindling  the  flame  of 
thought  on  the  altar  of  prayer,  —  who  does  not  feel,  in  mo- 
ments like  these,  as  if  it  must  at  last  be  given  to  man  to 
fathom  the  great  secret  of  his  own  being ;  to  solve  the 
mighty  problems 

u  Of  providence,  foreknowledge,  will,  and  fate ! " 

When  I  think  in  what  slight  elements  the  great  discov- 
eries, that  have  changed  the  condition  of  the  world,  have 


LIBE11TY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.         619 

oftentimes  had  their  origin ;  on  the  entire  revolution  in  polit- 
ical and  social  affairs,  which  has  resulted  from  the  use  of  the 
magnetic  needle  ;  on  the  world  of  wonders,  teeming  with  the 
most  important  scientific  discoveries,  which  has  been  opened 
by  the  telescope ;  on  the  all-controlling  influence  of  the  in- 
vention of  movable  metallic  types;  on  the  effects  of  the 
invention  of  gunpowder,  no  doubt  the  casual  result  of  some 
idle  experiment  in  alchemy  ;  on  the  consequences  that  have 
resulted,  and  are  likely  to  result,  from  the  application  of  the 
vapor  of  boiling  water  to  the  manufacturing  arts,  to  naviga- 
tion, and  transportation  by  land ;  on  the  results  of  a  single 
sublime  conception  in  the  mind  of  Newton,  on  which  he 
erected,  as  on  a  foundation,  the  glorious  temple  of  the  system 
of  the  heavens,  —  in  fine,  when  I  consider  how.  from  the 
great  master  principle  of  the  philosophy  of  Bacon,  —  the 
induction  of  truth  from  the  observation  of  fact,  —  has  flowed, 
as  from  a  living  fountain,  the  fresh  and  still  swelling  stream 
of  modern  science,  I  am  almost  oppressed  with  the  idea  of 
the  probable  connection  of  the  truths  already  known  with 
great  principles  which  remain  undiscovered,  —  of  the  prox- 
imity, in  which  we  may  unconsciously  stand,  to  the  most 
astonishing  though  yet  unrevealed  mysteries  of  the  material 
and  intellectual  world. 

If,  after  thus  considering  the  seemingly  obvious  sources 
from  which  the  most  important  discoveries  and  improvements 
have  sprung,  we  inquire  into  the  extent  of  the  field  in  which 
further  discoveries  are  to  be  made,  which  is  no  other  and  no 
less  than  the  entire  natural  and  spiritual  creation  of  God,  — 
a  grand  and  lovely  system,  even  as  we  imperfectly  apprehend 
it :  but  no  doubt  most  grand,  lovely,  and  harmonious,  beyond 
all  that  we  now  conceive  or  imagine,  —  when  we  reflect  that 
the  most  insulated,  seemingly  disconnected,  and  even  contra- 
dictory parts  of  the  system  are,  no  doubt,  bound  together  as 
portions  of  one  stupendous  whole, — and  that  those  which 
are  at  present  the  least  explicable,  and  which  most  completely 
defy  the  penetration  hitherto  bestowed  upon  them,  are  as 
intelligible,  in  reality,  as  that  which  seems  most  plain  and 
clear ;  that  as  every  atom  in  the  universe  attracts  every  other 


620  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

atom,  and  is  attracted  by  it,  so  every  truth  stands  in  harmo- 
nious connection  with  every  other  truth,  —  we  are  brought 
directly  to  the  conclusion,  that  every  portion  of  knowledge 
now  possessed,  every  observed  fact,  every  demonstrated  prin- 
ciple, is  a  clew,  which  we  hold  by  one  end  in  the  hand,  and 
which  is  capable  of  guiding  the  faithful  inquirer  farther  and 
farther  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  labyrinth  of  nature. 
Ages  on  ages  may  elapse,  before  it  conduct  the  patient  intel- 
lect to  the  wonders  of  science  to  which  it  will  eventually 
lead  him ;  and,  perhaps,  with  the  next  step  he  takes,  he  will 
reach  the  goal,  and  truths  de&tined  to  affect  the  condition  of 
millions  will  beam  in  characters  of  light  upon  his  understand- 
ing. What  was  at  once  more  unexpected  and  more  obvious 
than  Newton's  discovery  of  the  nature  of  light  ?  Every  living 
being,  since  the  creation  of  the  world,  had  gazed  on  the  rain- 
bow ;  to  none  had  the  beautiful  mystery  revealed  itself.  And 
even  the  great  philosopher  himself,  while  dissecting  the  solar 
beam,  while  actually  untwisting  the  golden  and  silver  threads 
that  compose  the  ray  of  light,  laid  open  but  half  its  wonders. 
And  who  shall  say  that  to  us,  to  whom,  as  we  think,  modern 
science  has  disclosed  the  residue,  truths  more  wonderful  than 
those  now  known  will  not  yet  be  revealed  ? 

It  is,  therefore,  by  no  means  to  be  inferred,  because  the 
human  mind  has  seemed  to  linger  for  a  long  time  around 
certain  results,  as  ultimate  principles,  that  they,  and  the  prin- 
ciples closely  connected  with  them,  are  not  likely  to  be 
pushed  much  farther ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  does  the  intel- 
lect always  require  much  time  to  bring  its  noblest  fruits  to 
seeming  perfection.  It  was,  I  suppose,  about  two  thousand 
years  from  the  time  when  the  peculiar  properties  of  the  mag- 
net were  first  observed,  before  it  became,  through  the  means 
of  those  qualities,  the  pilot  which  guided  Columbus  to  the 
American  continent.  Before  the  invention  of  the  compass 
could  take  full  effect,  it  was  necessary  that  some  navigator 
should  practically  and  boldly  grasp  the  idea  that  the  globe  is 
round.  The  two  truths  are  apparently  without  connection ; 
but  in  their  application  to  practice  they  are  intimately  asso- 
ciated. Hobbes  says  that  Dr  Harvey,  the  illustrious  discov- 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.          621 

erer  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  is  the  only  author  of  a 
great  discovery  who  ever  lived  to  see  it  universally  adopted. 
To  the  honor  of  subsequent  science,  this  remark  could  not 
now,  with  equal  truth,  be  made.  Nor  was  Harvey  himself 
without  some  painful  experience  of  the  obstacles  arising  from 
popular  ignorance,  against  which  truth  sometimes  forces  its 
way  to  general  acceptance.  When  he  first  proposed  the 
beautiful  doctrine,  his  practice  fell  off;  people  would  not 
continue  to  trust  their  lives  in  the  hands  of  such  a  dreamer. 
When  it  was  firmly  established,  and  generally  received,  one 
of  his  opponents  published  a  tract  de  drculo  sanguinis  Salo- 
moneo,  and  proved  from  the  twelfth  chapter  of  Ecclesiastes, 
that  the  circulation  of  the  blood  was  no  secret  in  the  time  of 
Solomon.  The  whole  doctrine  of  the  reformation  may  be 
found  in  the  writings  of  Wiclif ;  but  neither  he  nor  his  age 
felt  the  importance  of  his  principles,  nor  the  consequences  to 
which  they  led.  Huss  had  studied  the  writings  of  Wiclif 
in  manuscript,  and  was  in  no  degree  behind  him  in  the  bold- 
ness with  which  he  denounced  the  papal  usurpations.  But 
his  voice  was  not  heard  beyond  the  mountains  of  Bohemia : 
he  expired  in  agony  at  the  stake,  and  his  ashes  were  scattered 
upon  the  Rhine.  A  hundred  years  passed  away.  Luther, 
like  an  avenging  angel,  burst  upon  the  world,  and  denounced 
the  corruptions  of  the  church,  and  rallied  the  host  of  the 
faithful,  with  a  voice  which  might  almost  call  up  those  ashes 
from  their  watery  grave,  and  form  and  kindle  them  again 
into  a  living  witness  to  the  truth. 

Thus  Providence,  which  has  ends  innumerable  to  answer, 
in  the  conduct  of  the  physical  and  intellectual,  as  of  the 
moral  world,  sometimes  permits  the  great  discoverers  fully  to 
enjoy  their  fame,  sometimes  to  catch  but  a  glimpse  of  the 
extent  of  their  achievements,  and  sometimes  sends  them,  de- 
jected and  heart-broken,  to  the  grave,  unconscious  of  the 
importance  of  their  own  discoveries,  and  not  merely  under- 
valued by  their  contemporaries,  but  by  themselves.  It  is 
plain  that  Copernicus,  like  his  great  contemporary,  Columbus, 
though  fully  conscious  of  the  boldness  and  the  novelty  of 
his  doctrine,  saw  but  a  part  of  the  changes  it  was  to  effect  in 


622  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

science.  After  harboring  in  his  bosom  for  long,  long  years, 
that  pernicious  heresy,  the  solar  system,  he  died  on  the  day 
of  the  appearance  of  his  book  from  the  press.  The  closing 
scene  of  his  life,  with  a  little  help  from  the  imagination, 
would  furnish  a  noble  subject  for  an  artist.  For  thirty-five 
years,  he  has  revolved  and  matured  in  his  mind  his  system 
of  the  heavens.  A  natural  mildness  of  disposition,  bordering 
on  timidity,  a  reluctance  to  encounter  controversy,  and  a 
dread  of  persecution,  have  led  him  to  withhold  his  work  from 
the  press,  and  to  make  known  his  system  but  to  a  few  confi- 
dential disciples  and  friends.  At  length  he  draws  near  his 
end ;  he  is  seventy-three  years  of  age,  and  he  yields  his 
work  on  "the  revolutions  of  the  heavenly  orbs"  to  his 
friends  for  publication.  The  day  at  last  has  come,  on  which 
it  is  to  be  ushered  into  the  world.  It  is  the  twenty-fourth 
of  May,  1543.  On  that  day, — the  effect,  no  doubt,  of  the 
intense  excitement  of  his  mind,  operating  upon  an  exhausted 
frame,  —  an  effusion  of  blood  brings  him  to  the  gates  of  the 
grave.  His  last  hour  has  come ;  he  lies  stretched  upon  the 
couch,  from  which  he  never  will  rise,  in  his  apartment,  at  the 
Canonry  at  Frauenberg,  in  East  Prussia.  The  beams  of  the 
setting  sun  glance  through  the  Gothic  windows  of  his  cham- 
ber ;  near  his  bedside  is  the  armillary  sphere,  which  he  has 
contrived,  to  represent  his  theory  of  the  heavens  ;  his  portrait, 
painted  by  himself,  the  amusement  of  his  earlier  years,  hangs 
before  him ;  beneath  it,  his  astrolabe,  and  other  imperfect 
astronomical  instruments ;  and  around  him  are  gathered  his 
sorrowing  disciples.  The  door  of  the  apartment  opens ;  the 
eye  of  the  departing  sage  is  turned  to  see  who  enters :  it  is  a 
friend,  who  brings  him  the  first  printed  copy  of  his  immortal 
treatise.  He  knows  that  in  that  book  he  contradicts  all  that 
had  ever  been  distinctly  taught  by  former  philosophers ;  he 
knows  that  he  has  rebelled  against  the  sway  of  Ptolemy, 
which  the  scientific  world  had  acknowledged  for  a  thousand 
years ;  he  knows  that  the  popular  mind  will  be  shocked  by 
his  innovations ;  he  knows  that  the  attempt  will  be  made  to 
press  even  religion  into  the  service  against  him ;  —  but  he 
Knows  that  his  book  is  true.  He  is  dying,  but  he  leaves  a 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.          623 

glorious  truth,  as  his  dying  bequest,  to  the  world.  He  bids 
the  friend  who  has  brought  it  place  himself  between  the 
window  and  his  bedside,  that  the  sun's  rays  may  fall  upon 
the  precious  volume,  and  he  may  behold  it  once  before  his 
eye  grows  dim.  He  looks  upon  it,  takes  it  in  his  hands, 
presses  it  to  his  breast,  and  expires.  But  no,  he  is  not  wholly 
gone  !  A  smile  lights  up  his  dying  countenance  ;  a  beam  of 
returning  intelligence  kindles  in  his  eye ;  his  lips  move ;  and 
the  friend  who  leans  over  him  can  hear  him  faintly  murmur 
the  beautiful  sentiments,  which  the  Christian  lyrist  of  a  later 
age  has  so  finely  expressed  in  verse  — 

"  Ye  golden  lamps  of  heaven,  farewell,  with  all  your  feeble  light ! 
Farewell,  thou  ever-changing  moon,  pale  empress  of  the  night ! 
And  thou,  refulgent  orb  of  day,  in  brighter  flames  arrayed, 
My  soul,  which  springs  beyond  thy  sphere,  no  more  demands  thy  aid ! 
Ye  stars  are  but  the  shining  dust  of  my  divine  abode, 
The  pavement  of  those  heavenly  courts,  where  I  shall  reign  with  God ! " 

So  died  the  great  Columbus  of  the  heavens.*  His  doc- 
trine, at  first,  for  want  of  a  general  diffusion  of  knowledge, 
forced  its  way  with  difficulty  against  the  deep-rooted  preju- 
dices of  the  age.  Tycho  Brahe  attempted  to  restore  the 
absurdities  of  the  Ptolemaic  system ;  but  Keppler,  with  a 
sagacity  which  more  than  atones  for  all  his  strange  fancies, 
laid  hold  of  the  theory  of  Copernicus,  with  a  grasp  of  iron, 
and  dragged  it  into  repute.  Galileo  turned  his  telescope  to 
the  heavens,  and  observed  the  phases  of  Venus,  which  Co- 


*  "  Ceterum  editio  jam  perfecta  erat,  illiusque  exemplum  Rheticus  ad 
ipsum  mittebat,  cum  ecce,  (ut  optimus  Gysius  ad  ipsum  Rheticum  rescrip- 
eit,)  qui  vir  fuerat  toti  state  valetudine  satis  firma,  laborare  cepit  sanguinis 
profluvio  et  insequuta  ex  improviso  paralysi  ad  dextrum  latus.  Per  hoc 
tempus  memoria  illi  vigorque  mentis  debilitatus.  Habuit  nihilominus,  unde 
ad  hanc  vitam  et  dimittendam  et  cum  meliore  commutandam  se  compararet. 
Contigit  autem,  ut  eodem  die  ac  horis  non  multis  priusquam  animam  efflaret, 
operis  exemplum,  ad  se  destinatum  sibique  oblatum,  et  viderit  quidem  et 
contigerit ;  sed  erant  jam  turn  alia  ipsi  cura.  Quare  ad  hoc  compositus, 
animam  Deoreddidit,  die  Maii  xxiv.  anno  MDXLIII.  cum  foret  tribus  jam 
mensibus  et  diebus  quinque  septuagenario  major.  Atque  hujusmodi 
quidem  vita,  hujusmodi  mors  Copernici  fuit" — Nicolai  Copemid  Vita, 
Overa  Petrl  Gassendi,  Tom.  V.  p.  451 


624  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

pernicus  boldly  predicted  must  be  discovered,  as  his  theory 
required  their  appearance ;  and  lastly  Newton  arose,  like  a 
glorious  sun,  scattering  the  mists  of  doubt  and  opposition, 
and  ascended  the  heavens  full-orbed  and  cloudless,  establish- 
ing at  once  his  own  renown  and  that  of  his  predecessors,  and 
crowned  with  the  applauses  of  the  world ;  but  declaring, 
with  that  angelic  modesty  which  marked  his  character,  "  I  do 
not  know  what  I  may  appear  to  the  world ;  but  to  myself  I 
seem  to  have  been  only  like  a  boy,  playing  on  the  sea-shore, 
and  diverting  myself  in  finding  now  and  then  a  pebble,  or  a 
prettier  shell  than  ordinary,  while  the  great  ocean  of  truth 
lay  all  undiscovered  before  me."* 

But  whether  the  progress  of  any  particular  discovery  to- 
wards a  general  reception  be  prompt  or  tardy,  it  is  one  of  the 
laws  of  intellectual  influence,  as  it  is  one  of  the  great  prin- 
ciples on  which  we  maintain  that  the  general  diffusion  of 
knowledge  is  favorable  to  the  growth  of  science,  that  what- 
soever be  the  fortune  of  inventors  and  discoverers,  the 
invention  and  discovery  are  immortal ;  the  teacher  dies  in 
honor  or  neglect,  but  his  doctrine  survives.  Fagots  may 
consume  his  frame,  but  the  truths  he  taught,  like  the  spirit  it 
enclosed,  can  never  die.  Partial  and  erroneous  views  may 
even  retard  his  own  mind  in  the  pursuit  of  a  fruitful  thought ; 
but  the  errors  of  one  age  are  the  guides  of  the  next ;  and 
the  failure  of  one  great  mind  but  puts  its  successor  on  a  dif- 
ferent track,  and  teaches  him  to  approach  the  object  from  a 
new  point  of  observation. 

In  estimating  the  effect  of  a  popular  system  of  education 
upon  the  growth  of  science,  it  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind 
a  circumstance,  in  which  the  present  age  and  that  which 
preceded  't  are  strongly  discriminated  from  former  periods ; 
and  that  is  the  vastly  greater  extent  to  which  science  exists 
among  men,  who  do  not  desire  to  be  known  to  the  world  as 
authors.  Since  the  dawn  of  civilization  on  Egypt  and  Asia 
Minor,  there  never  have  been  wanting  individuals,  some- 
times many  flourishing  at  the  same  time,  who  have  made  the 

*  Brewster's  Life  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  p.  301. 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.          625 

most  distinguished  attainments  in  knowledge.  Such,  how- 
ever, has  been  the  condition  of  the  world,  that  they  formed  a 
class  by  themselves.  Their  knowledge  was  transmitted  in 
schools,  often  under  strict  injunctions  of  secrecy ;  or  if  re- 
corded in  books,  —  for  want  of  the  press,  and  owing  to  the 
constitution  of  society,  —  it  made  but  little  impression  on  the 
mass  of  the  community  and  the  business  of  life.  As  far  as 
there  is  any  striking  exception  to  this  remark,  it  is  in  the 
free  states  of  antiquity,  in  which,  through  the  medium  of 
the  popular  organization  of  the  governments,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  constant  appeals  to  the  people,  the  cultivated  intellect 
was  brought  into  close  association  with  the  understandings 
of  the  majority  of  men.  This  fact  may  perhaps  go  far  to 
explain  the  astonishing  energy  and  enduring  power  of  the 
Grecian  civilization,  which  remains  to  this  day,  after  all  that 
has  been  said  to  explain  it,  one  of  the  most  extraordinary 
facts  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind.  But  from  the  period 
of  the  downfall  of  the  Roman  republic,  and  more  especially 
after  the  establishment  of  the  feudal  system,  the  division  of 
the  community  into  four  classes,  namely,  the  landed  aristoc- 
racy, or  nobles  and  gentry ;  the  spiritual  aristocracy,  or 
priesthood ;  the  inhabitants  of  the  cities ;  and  the  peasantry, 
(a  division  which  has  in  modern  Europe  been  considerably 
modified,  in  some  countries  more,  and  in  some  less,  but  in 
none  wholly  obliterated,)  the  possession  and  manifestation  of 
knowledge  were,  till  a  comparatively  recent  period,  almost 
monopolized  by  the  two  higher  classes ;  and  in  their  hands 
it  assumed  in  a  great  degree  a  literary,  by  which  I  mean  a 
book  form.  Such,  of  course,  must  ever,  with  reasonable 
qualifications,  continue  to  be  the  case  ;  and  books  will  always 
be,  in  a  great  degree,  the  vehicle  by  which  knowledge  is  to 
be  communicated,  preserved,  and  transmitted. 

But  it  is  impossible  to  overlook  the  fact,  —  it  is  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  features  of  the  civilization  of  the  age  — 
that  this  is  far  less  exclusively  the  case  than  at  any  former 
period.  The  community  is  filled  with  an  incalculable  amount 
of  unwritten  knowledge ;  of  science  which  never  will  be 
committed  to  paper  by  the  active  men  who  possess  it,  and 
VOL.  i.  79 


626  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

which  has  been  acquired  on  the  basis  of  a  good  education, 
by  observation,  experience,  and  the  action  of  the  mind  itself. 
A  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  it  is  doubtful  whether,  out  of 
the  observatories  and  universities,  there  were  ten  men  in 
Europe  who  could  ascertain  the  longitude  by  lunar  observa- 
tion. At  the  present  day,  scarce  a  vessel  sails  to  foreign  lands, 
in  the  public  or  mercantile  service,  in  which  the  process 
is  not  understood.  In  like  manner,  in  our  manufacturing 
establishments,  in  the  workshops  of  our  intelligent  mechan- 
ics, in  the  construction  arid  direction  of  railroads  and  canals, 
on  the  improved  farms  throughout  the  country,  there  is  pos- 
sessed, embodied,  and  brought  into  action,  a  vast  deal  of 
useful  knowledge,  of  which  its  possessors  will  never  make 
a  literary  use,  for  the  composition  of  a  book,  but  which  is 
daily  employed  to  the  signal  advantage  of  the  country. 
Much  of  it  is  directly  derived  from  a  study  of  the  great  book 
of  nature,  whose  pages  are  written  by  the  hand  of  God ;  and 
which  in  no  part  of  the  civilized  world  has  been  more 
faithfully  or  profitably  studied  than  in  New  England.  The 
intelligent  population  of  the  country,  furnished  with  the 
keys  of  knowledge  at  our  common  schools,  have  addressed 
themselves  to  the  further  acquisition  of  useful  science,  —  to 
its  acquisition  at  once  and  application,  —  with  a  vigor,  a  dil- 
igence, a  versatility,  and  a  success,  truly  admirable. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  I  wish  to  disconnect  this  diffu- 
sive science  from  that  which  is  recorded  and  propagated  in 
books :  to  do  this  would  be  to  reverse  the  error  of  former 
ages.  It  is  the  signal  improvement  of  the  present  day,  that 
the  action  and  reaction  of  book-learning  and  general  intelli- 
gence are  so  prompt,  intense,  and  all-pervading.  The 
moment  a  discovery  is  made,  a  principle  demonstrated,  a 
proposition  advanced  through  the  medium  of  the  press,  in  any 
part  of  the  world,  it  finds  immediately  a  host,  numberless  as 
the  sands  of  the  sea,  prepared  to  take  it  up,  to  canvass,  con- 
firm, refute,  or  pursue  it.  At  every  waterfall,  on  the  line  of 
every  canal  and  railroad,  in  the  counting-room  of  every  fac- 
tory and  mercantile  establishment,  on  the  quarter-deck  of 
every  ship  which  navigates  the  high  seas,  on  the  farm  of 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.         627 

every  intelligent  husbandman,  in  the  workshop  of  every 
skilful  mechanic,  at  the  desk  of  the  schoolmaster,  in  the 
office  of  the  lawyer,  the  study  of  the  physician  and  clergy- 
man, at  the  fireside  of  every  man  who  has  had  the  elements 
of  a  good  education,  not  less  than  in  the  professed  retreats 
of  learning,  there  is  an  intellect  to  seize,  to  weigh,  and  ap- 
propriate the  suggestion,  whether  it  belong  to  the  world  of 
science,  of  taste,  or  of  morals. 

In  some  countries  there  may  be  more,  and  in  some  less,  of 
this  latent  intellectual  power :  latent,  I  call  it,  in  reference 
not  to  its  action  on  life,  but  to  its  display  in  books.  In  some 
countries,  the  books  are  in  advance  of  the  people,  in  others 
greatly  behind  them.  In  Europe,  as  compared  with  America, 
the  advantage  is  in  favor  of  the  books.  The  restraint  im- 
posed upon  the  mind,  in  reference  to  all  political  questions, 
has  had  the  effect  of  driving  more  than  a  proportion  of  the 
intellect  of  that  part  of  the  world  into  the  cultivation  of 
science  and  literature,  as  a  profession ;  and  if  we  were  to 
judge  merely  from  the  character  of  a  few  great  works 
published  at  the  expense  of  the  government,  and  the  attain- 
ments of  a  few  individuals,  Italy  and  Austria  would  stand 
on  a  level  with  Great  Britain  and  France.  The  great  differ- 
ence between  nation  and  nation,  in  reference  to  knowledge, 
is  in  fact,  in  no  small  degree,  in  this  very  distinction.  In 
reference  to  the  attainments  of  scholars  and  men  of  science 
by  profession,  of  which  some  few  are  found  in  every  civil- 
ized country,  all  nations  may  be  considered  as  forming  one 
intellectual  republic  ;  but  in  reference  to  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge  among  the  people,  its  action  on  the  character  of 
nations,  and  its  fruitful  influence  on  society,  the  most  impor- 
tant differences  exist  between  different  countries. 

III.  There  remains  to  be  discussed  the  last  topic  of  our 
address  —  the  influence  of  a  general  diffusion  of  knowledge 
on  morals,  a  point  which,  if  it  were  debatable,  would  raise  a 
question  of  portentous  import ;  —  for  if  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge  is  unfriendly  to  goodness,  shall  we  take  refuge  in 
ignorance  ?  What  is  the  precise  question  on  which,  in  this 


628  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

connection,  rational  scruples  may  be  started,  deserving  a  seri- 
ous answer  ? 

The  merits  of  the  case  may,  I  believe,  be  stated  somewhat 
as  follows  —  that  there  seems,  in  individuals,  no  fixed  pro- 
portion between  intellectual  and  moral  growth.  Eminent 
talent  and  distinguished  attainment  are  sometimes  connected 
with  obliquity  of  character.  Of  those  who  have  reached  the 
heights  of  speculative  science,  not  all  are  entitled  to  the  com- 
mendation of  being 

"Learned  without  pride,  and  not  too  wise  to  pray;" 

and  one  entire  class  of  men  of  letters  and  science  —  the 
French  philosophers  of  the  last  century  —  were,  as  a  body, 
though  by  no  means  without  honorable  exceptions,  notori- 
ous for  a  disbelief  of  revealed  religion ;  an  insensibility  to 
the  delicacies  of  moral  restraint ;  a  want  of  that  purity  of 
feeling  and  character,  which  we  would  gladly  consider  the 
inseparable  attendant  of  intellectual  cultivation.  It  is  a  ques- 
tion of  deep  interest,  whether,  from  these  facts  and  others 
like  them,  any  thing  can  be  fairly  deduced  unfavorable  to 
the  moral  influence  of  a  diffusion  of  knowledge. 

No  country  in  Europe  had  retained  more  of  the  feudal 
divisions  than  France  before  the  revolution.  A  partition  of 
the  orders  of  society,  but  little  less  rigid  than  the  Oriental 
economy  of  castes,  was  kept  up.  Causes,  which  time  would 
fail  us  to  develop,  had  rendered  the  court  and  capital  signally 
corrupt,  during  the  last  century.  It  is  doubtful  whether,  in  a 
civilized  state,  the  foundations  of  social  morality  were  ever 
so  totally  subverted.  It  was  by  no  means  one  of  the  least 
active  causes  of  this  corruption,  that  all  connection  between 
the  higher  ranks  and  the  people  was  cut  off  by  the  constitu- 
tion of  society,  and  the  hopeless  depression,  degradation,  and 
ignorance  of  the  mass  of  the  nation.  Under  these  influences, 
the  school  of  the  Encyclopedists  was  trained.  They  did  not 
make,  they  found,  the  corruption.  They  were  reared  in  it. 
They  grew  up  in  the  presence  and  under  the  patronage  of  a 
most  dissolute  court,  surrounded  by  the  atmosphere  of  an 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.         629 

abandoned  metropolis,  without  the  constraint,  the  corrective, 
or  the  check  of  a  wholesome  public  sentiment,  emanating  from 
an  intelligent  and  virtuous  population.  The  great  monitors 
of  society  were  hushed.  The  pulpit,  not  over  active  at  that 
time  as  a  moral  teacher  in  the  Catholic  church  in  Europe, 
was  struck  dumb,  for  some  of  the  highest  dignitaries  were 
stained  with  all  the  vices  of  the  rest  of  their  order  —  that  of 
the  nobility  ;  and  some  of  the  most  virtuous  and  eloquent  of 
the  prelates  had  been  obliged  to  exhaust  their  talents  in  pan- 
egyrics of  the  frail  but  royal  dead.  The  press  was  mute  on 
every  thing  which  touched  the  vices  of  the  time.  It  was 
not,  then,  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  from  the  philosophical 
circles  of  Paris,  that  corrupted  France  ;  it  wa's  the  gross  dark- 
ness of  the  provinces,  and  the  deep  degradation  every  where 
of  the  majority  of  the  people,  which  left  unrebuked  the  de- 
pravity of  the  capital.  It  was  precisely  a  diffusion  of  knowl- 
edge that  was  wanted.  And  if,  as  I  doubt  not,  France  at  this 
time  is  more  virtuous  (notwithstanding  the  demoralizing 
effects  of  the  revolution  arid  its  wars)  than  at  any  former 
period,  it  is  owing  to  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  which  has 
followed  the  subversion  of  feudalism,  and  the  regeneration 
of  the  provinces.  Paris  has  ceased  to  be  France.  A  disso- 
lute court  has  ceased  to  give  the  tone  of  feeling  to  the  entire 
kingdom  ;  for  an  intelligent  class  of  independent  citizens  and 
husbandmen  has  sprung  up  on  the  ruins  of  a  decayed  landed 
aristocracy,  and  the  reformation  of  France  is  rapidly  going 
on,  in  the  elevation  of  the  intellectual,  and  with  it  the  politi- 
cal, social,  and  moral  character  of  the  people. 

I  do  not  deem  it  necessary  to  argue,  at  length,  against  any 
general  inference  from  individual  cases,  in  which  intellectual 
eminence  has  been  associated  with  moral  depravity.  The 
question  concerns  general  influences  and  natural  tendencies, 
and  must  be  considered  mainly  in  reference  to  the  compara- 
tive effects  of  ignorance  and  knowledge  on  communities, 
nations,  and  ages.  In  this  reference,  nothing  is  more  certain 
than  that  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  is  friendly  to  the  benign 
influence  of  religion  and  morals.  The  illustrations  of  this 
great  truth  are  so  abundant,  that  I  know  not  where  to  begin, 


630  EDUCATION    FAVOK4BLE    TO 

nor  where  to  end  with  them.  Knowledge  is  the  faithful  ally 
both  of  natural  and  revealed  religion.  Natural  religion  is  one 
grand  deduction  made  by  the  enlightened  understanding, 
from  a  faithful  study  of  the  great  book  of  nature ;  and  the 
record  of  revealed  religion,  contained  in  the  Bible,  is  not 
merely  confirmed  by  the  harmony  which  the  mind  delights  to 
trace  between  it  and  the  "  elder  Scripture  writ  by  God's  own 
hand ; "  but  revelation,  in  all  ages,  has  called  to  its  aid  the 
meditations  and  researches  of  pious  and  learned  men;  and 
most  assuredly,  at  every  period,  for  one  man  of  learning, 
superficial  or  profound,  who  has  turned  the  weapons  of  sci- 
ence against  religion  or  morals,  hundreds  have  consecrated 
their  labors  to  their  defence. 

Christianity  is  revealed  to  the  mind  of  man  in  a  peculiar 
sense.  To  what  are  its  hopes,  its  sanctions,  its  precepts  ad- 
dressed ;  to  the  physical  or  the  intellectual  portion  of  his 
nature  ;  to  the  perishing  or  the  immortal  element  ?  Is  it  on 
ignorance  or  on  knowledge  that  its  evidences  repose  ?  Is  it 
by  ignorance  or  knowledge  that  its  sacred  records  are  trans- 
lated from  the  original  tongues  into  the  thousands  of  lan- 
guages spoken  in  the  world? — and  if,  by  perverted  knowl- 
edge, it  has  sometimes  been  attacked,  is  it  by  ignorance  or 
knowledge  that  it  has  been,  and  must  be,  defended  ?  What 
but  knowledge  is  to  prevent  us,  in  short,  from  being  borne 
down  and  carried  away  by  the  overwhelming  tide  of  fanati- 
cism and  delusion,  put  in  motion  by  the  moon-struck  impos- 
tors of  the  day  ?  Before  we  permit  ourselves  to  be  agitated 
with  painful  doubts  as  to  the  connection  of  a  diffusion  of 
knowledge  with  religion  and  morals,  let  us  remember  that,  in 
proportion  to  the  ignorance  of  a  community,  is  the  ease  with 
which  their  belief  in  truth  can  be  shaken,  and  their  assent 
obtained  to  the  last  specious  delusion  of  the  day,  —  till  you 
may  finally  get  down  to  a  degree  of  ignorance,  on  which  rea- 
son and  Scripture  are  alike  lost ;  which  is  ready  to  receive 

Joe  Smith  as  an  inspired  prophet,  and  Matthias  as But 

shame  and  horror  forbid  me  to  complete  the  sentence. 

But  this  topic  must  be  treated  in  a  higher  strain.  The  dif- 
fusion of  knowledge  is  not  merely  favorable  to  religion  and 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE,    AND    MORALS.          631 

morals,  but,  in  the  last  and  highest  analysis,  they  cannot  be 
separated  from  each  other.  In  the  great  prototype  of  our 
feeble  ideas  of  perfection,  the  wise  and  the  good  are  so  blend- 
ed together,  that  the  absence  of  one  would  enfeeble  and  im- 
pair the  other.  There  can  be  no  real  knowledge  of  truth 
which  does  not  tend  to  purify  and  elevate  the  affections.  A 
little  knowledge — much  knowledge — may  not,  in  individ- 
ual cases,  subdue  the  passions  of  a  cold,  corrupt,  and  selfish 
heart.  But  if  knowledge  will  not  do  it,  can  it  be  done  by 
the  want  of  knowledge  ? 

What  is  human  knowledge  ?  It  is  the  cultivation  and 
improvement  of  the  spiritual  principle  in  man.  We  are  com- 
posed of  two  elements ;  the  one,  a  little  du^t  caught  up  from 
the  earth,  to  which  we  shall  soon  return ;  the  other,  a  spark 
of  that  divine  intelligence,  in  which  and  through  which  we 
bear  the  image  of  the  great  Creator.  By  knowledge,  the 
wings  of  the  intellect  are  spread  ;  by  ignorance,  they  are 
closed  and  palsied,  and  the  physical  passions  are  left  to  gain 
he  ascendency.  Knowledge  opens  all  the  senses  to  the  won- 
ders of  creation;  ignorance  seals  them  up,  and  leaves  the 
animal  propensities  unbalanced  by  reflection,  enthusiasm,  and 
taste.  To  the  ignorant  man,  the  glorious  pomp  of  day,  the 
sparkling  mysteries  of  night,  the  majestic  ocean,  the  rushing 
storm,  the  plenty-bearing  river,  the  salubrious  breeze,  the  fer- 
tile field,  the  docile  animal  tribes,  the  broad,  the  various,  the 
unexhausted  domain  of  nature,  are  a  mere  outward  pageant, 
poorly  understood  in  their  character  and  harmony,  and  prized 
only  so  far  as  they  minister  to  the  supply  of  sensual  wants. 
How  different  the  scene  to  the  man  whose  mind  is  stored 
with  knowledge  !  For  him  the  mystery  is  unfolded,  the  veils 
lifted  up,  as  one  after  another  he  turns  the  leaves  of  that  great 
volume  of  creation,  which  is  filled  in  every  page  with  the 
characters  of  wisdom,  power,  and  love  ;  with  lessons  of  truth 
the  most  exalted  ;  with  images  of  unspeakable  loveliness  and 
wonder ;  arguments  of  Providence ;  food  for  meditation ; 
themes  of  praise.  One  noble  science  sends  him  to  the  barren 
hills,  and  teaches  him  to  survey  their  broken  precipices. 


632  EDUCATION    FAVORABLE    TO 

Where  ignorance  beholds  nothing  but  a  rough,  inorganic 
mass,  instruction  discerns  the  intelligible  record  of  the  primal 
convulsions  of  the  world ;  the  secrets  of  ages  before  man 
was ;  the  landmarks  of  the  elemental  struggles  and  throes  of 
what  is  now  the  terraqueous  globe.  Buried  monsters,  of 
which  the  races  are  now  extinct,  are  dragged  out  of  deep 
strata,  dug  out  of  eternal  rocks,  and  brought  almost  to  life,  to 
bear  witness  to  the  power  that  created  them.  Before  the 
admiring  student  of  nature  has  realized  all  the  wonders  of 
the  elder  world,  thus,  as  it  were,  re-created  by  science,  an- 
other delightful  instructress,  with  her  microscope  in  her  hand, 
bids  him  sit  down  and  learn  at  last  to  know  the  universe  in 
which  he  lives,  -and  contemplate  the  limbs,  the  motions,  the 
circulations  of  races  of  animals,  disporting  in  their  tempestu- 
ous ocean,  —  t  drop  of  water.  Then,  while  his  whole  soul 
is  penetrated  with  admiration  of  the  power  which  has  filled 
with  life,  and  motion,  and  sense  these  all  but  non-existent 
atoms,  —  O,  then,  let  the  divinest  of  the  muses,  let  Astronomy 
approach,  and  take  him  by  the  hand  ;  let  her 

"  Come,  but  keep  her  wonted  state, 
With  even  step  and  musing  gait, 
And  looks  commercing  with  the  skies, 
Her  rapt  soul  sitting  in  her  eyes." 

Let  her  lead  him  to  the  mount  of  vision ;  let  her  turn  her 
heaven-piercing  tube  to  the  sparkling  vault :  through  that  let 
him  observe  the  serene  star  of  evening,  and  see  it  transformed 
into  a  cloud-encompassed  orb,  a  world  of  rugged  mountains 
and  stormy  deeps ;  or  behold  the  pale  beams  of  Saturn,  lost 
to  the  untaught  observer  amidst  myriads  of  brighter  stars,  and 
see  them  expand  into  the  broad  disk  of  a  noble  planet,  —  the 
seven  attendant  worlds,  —  the  wondrous  rings,  —  a  mighty 
system  in  itself,  borne  at  the  rate  of  twenty-two  thousand 
miles  an  hour  on  its  broad  pathway  through  the  heavens  ; 
and  then  let  him  reflect  that  our  great  solar  system,  of  which 
Saturn  and  his  stupendous  retinue  is  but  a  small  part,  fills 
itself,  in  the  general  structure  of  the  universe,  but  the  space 


LIBERTY,    KNOWLEDGE    AND    MORALS.  633 

of  one  fixed  star ;  and  that  the  power  which  filled  the  drop 
of  water  with  millions  of  living  beings,  is  present  and  active, 
throughout  this  illimitable  creation  !  —  Yes,  yes, 

"An  undevout  astronomer  is  mad!" 

But  it  is  time  to  quit  these  sublime  contemplations,  and 
bring  this  address  to  a  close.  I  may  seem  to  have  undertaken 
a  superfluous  labor,  in  pleading  the  cause  of  education.  This 
institution,  consecrated  to  learning  and  piety ;  these  academic 
festivities  ;  this  favoring  audience,  which  bestows  its  counte- 
nance on  our  literary  exercises ;  the  presence  of  so  many 
young  men,  embarking  on  the  ocean  of  life,  devoted  to  the 
great  interests  of  the  rational  mind  and  immortal  soul,  bear 
witness  for  me  that  the  cause  of  education  stands  not  here  in 
need  of  champions.  Let  it  be  our  pride,  that  it  has  never 
needed  them  among  the  descendants  of  the  Pilgrims ;  let  it 
be  our  vow,  that,  by  the  blessing  of  Providence,  it  never  shall 
need  them,  so  long  as  there  is  a  descendant  of  the  Pilgrims 
to  plead  its  worth.  Yes,  let  the  pride  of  military  glory  be- 
long to  foreign  regions ;  let  the  refined  corruptions  of  the 
older  world  attract  the  traveller  to  its  splendid  capitals ;  let 
a  fervid  sun  ripen  for  other  states  the  luxuries  of  a  tropical 
clime.  Let  it  be  ours  to  boast  that  we  inherit  a  land  of  lib- 
erty and  light ;  let  the  schoolhouse  and  the  church  continue 
to  be  the  landmarks  of  the  New  England  village ;  let  the 
son  of  New  England,  whithersoever  he  may  wander,  leave 
that  behind  him  which  shall  make  him  homesick  for  his  native 
land ;  let  freedom,  and  knowledge,  and  morals,  and  religion, 
as  they  are  our  birthright,  be  the  birthright  of  our  children 
to  the  end  of  time ! 

VOL.  i.  80 


THE   BATTLE   OF   BLOODY  BROOK.' 


GATHERED  together  in  this  temple  not  made  with  hands, 
to  commemorate  an  important  event  in  the  early  history  of 
the  country,  let  our  first  thoughts  ascend  to  Him  whose 
heavens  are  spread  out  as  a  glorious  canopy  above  our  heads. 
As  our  eyes  look  up  to  the  everlasting  hills  which  rise  before 
us,  let  us  remember  that,  in  those  dark  and  eventful  days,  the 
hand  that  lifted  their  eternal  pillars  to  the  clouds  was  the  sole 
stay  and  support  of  our  afflicted  sires.  While  we  contem- 
plate the  lovely  scene  around  us,  —  once  covered  with  the 
gloomy  forest  and  the  tangled  swamps  through  which  the 
victims  of  this  day  pursued  their  unsuspecting  path  to  the 
field  of  slaughter,  —  let  us  bow  in  gratitude  to  Him,  beneath 
whose  paternal  care  a  little  one  has  become  a  thousand,  and 
a  small  one  a  strong  nation.  Let  us  bear  in  thankful  recol- 
lection, that  at  the  period  when  the  sturdy  limbs  of  the  tree 
which  now  overshadows  us,  hung  with  nature's  rich  and 
verdant  tapestry,  were  all  folded  up  within  their  seminal 
germ,  the  thousand  settlements  of  our  beloved  country,  teem- 
ing with  life  and  energy,  were  struggling  with  unimagined 
hardships  for  a  doubtful  existence,  in  a  score  of  feeble  plan- 
tations scattered  through  the  hostile  wilderness.  It  is  not 
alone  the  genial  showers  of  the  spring  and  the  native  richness 
of  the  soil  which  have  nourished  the  growth  of  this  stately 
tree.  The  sod  from  which  it  sprung  was  moistened  with  the 
blood  of  brave  men  who  fell  for  their  country,  and  the  ashes 
of  peaceful  dwellings  are  mingled  with  the  consecrated  earth. 

*  Address  delivered  at  Bloody  Brook,  in  South  Deerfield,  September 
30,  1835,  in  commemoration  of  the  fall  of  the  "Flower  of  Essex,"  at 
that  spot,  in  King  Philip's  war,  September  18,  (O.  S.,)  1675. 

(634) 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  635 

[ri  hke  manner,  it  is  not  alone  the  wisdom  and  the  courage, 
the  piety  and  the  virtue,  of  our  fathers,  —  not  alone  the  pru- 
dence with  which  they  laid  the  foundations  of  the  state,  — 
to  which  we  are  indebted  for  its  present  growth  arid  pros- 
perity. We  ought  never  to  forget  —  we  ought  this  day 
especially  to  remember  —  that  it  was  in  their  sacrifices  and 
trials,  their  heart-rending  sorrows,  their  ever-renewed  tribula- 
tions, that  the  corner  stone  of  our  privileges  and  blessings 
was  laid. 

As  I  stand  on  this  hallowed  spot,  my  mind  filled  with  the 
traditions  of  that  disastrous  day,  surrounded  by  these  natura 
memorials,  impressed  with  the  touching  ceremonies  we  have 
just  witnessed,  the  affecting  incidents  of  the  bloody  scene 
crowd  upon  my  imagination.  This  compact  and  prosperous 
village  disappears,  and  a  few  scattered  log  cabins  are  seen,  by 
the  mind's  eye,  in  the  bosom  of  the  primeval  forest,  cluster- 
ing for  protection  around  the  rude  block-house  in  the  centre. 
A  cornfield  or  two  has  been  rescued  from  the  all-surrounding 
wilderness,  and  here  and  there  the  yellow  husks  are  heard  to 
rustle  in  the  breeze  that  comes  loaded  with  the  mournful 
sighs  of  the  melancholy  pine  woods.  Beyond,  the  intermi- 
nable forest  spreads,  in  every  direction,  the  covert  of  the 
wolf,  of  the  rattlesnake,  of  the  savage ;  and  between  its 
gloomy  copses,  what  is  now  a  fertile  and  cultivated  meadow, 
stretches  out  a  dreary  expanse  of  unreclaimed  morass.  I 
look,  —  I  listen.  All  is  still,  —  solemnly, — frightfully  still. 
No  voice  of  human  activity  or  enjoyment  breaks  the  dreary 
silence  of  nature,  or  mingles  with  the  dirge  of  the  woods  and 
watercourses.  All  seems  peaceful  and  still ;  and  yet  there 
is  a  strange  heaviness  in  the  fall  of  the  leaves  in  that  wood 
which  skirts  the  road ;  there  is  an  unnatural  flitting  in  those 
shadows ;  there  is  a  plashing  sound  in  the  waters  of  that 
brook,  which  makes  the  flesh  creep  with  horror.  Hark !  it 
is  the  click  of  a  gunlock  from  that  thicket :  no,  it  is  a 
pebble  that  has  dropped  from  the  overhanging  cliff  upon 
the  rock  beneath.  It  is,  it  is  the  gleaming  blade  of  a  scalping- 
knife:  no,  it  is  a  sunbeam,  thrown  off  from  that  dancing 
ripple.  It  is,  it  is  the  red  feather  of  a  savage  chief,  peeping 


636  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

from  behind  that  maple-tree :  no,  it  is  a  leaf  which  Septem- 
ber has  touched  with  her  many-tinted  pencil.  And  now  a 
distant  drum  is  heard:  yes,  that  is  a  sound  of  life,  —  con- 
scious, proud  life.  A  single  fife  breaks  upon  the  ear,  —  a 
stirring  strain.  It  is  one  of  the  marches  to  which  the  stern 
warriors  of  Cromwell  moved  over  the  field  at  Naseby  and 
Worcester.  There  are  no  loyal  ears  to  take  offence  at  a 
puritanical  march  in  a  transatlantic  forest ;  and  hard  by,  at 
Hadley,  there  is  a  gray-haired  fugitive,  who  followed  the 
cheering  strain,  at  the  head  of  his  division  in  the  army  of  the 
great  usurper.  The  warlike  note  grows  louder  ;  I  hear  the 
tread  of  armed  men.  But  I  run  before  my  story. 

Before  we  proceed  to  the  details  of  the  catastrophe,  which 
forms  the  subject  of  this  day's  commemoration,  let  us  con- 
sider, for  a  moment,  the  state  of  things  at  that  time  existing 
in  New  England,  and  the  previous  events  of  the  war,  of 
which  this  was  so  prominent  an  occurrence. 

Although  the  continent  of  America,  when  discovered  by 
the  Europeans,  was  in  the  possession  of  the  native  tribes,  it 
was  obviously  the  purpose  of  Providence  that  it  should  be- 
come the  abode  of  civilization,  the  arts,  and  Christianity. 
How  shall  these  blessings  be  introduced  ?  Obviously  by  no 
other  process  —  none  other  is  practicable  —  than  an  emigra- 
tion to  the  new-found  continent  from  the  civilized  communi- 
ties of  Europe.  This  is  doubly  necessary,  not  only  as  being 
the  only  process  adequate  to  produce  the  desired  end,  but  in 
order  to  effect  another  great  purpose  in  the  order  of  Provi- 
dence, namely,  the  establishment  of  a  place  of  refuge  for  the 
victims  of  persecution,  and  the  opening  of  a  new  field  of 
action,  where  principles  of  liberty  and  improvement  could  be 
developed,  without  the  restraints  imposed  on  the  work  of 
reform,  by  long-established  and  inveterate  abuses. 

There  was,  therefore,  a  moral  necessity  that  the  two  races 
should  be  brought  into  contact  in  the  newly-discovered 
region  ;  the  one,  ignorant,  weak  in  every  thing  that  belongs 
to  intellectual  strength,  feebly  redeeming  the  imperfections 
of  the  savage  by  the  stern  and  cheerless  virtues  of  the  wil- 
derness ;  the  other,  strong  in  his  powerful  arts,  in  his  weapons 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK.       637 

of  destruction,  in  his  capacity  of  combination ;  strong  in  the 
intellectual  and  moral  elevation  of  his  character  and  purposes, 
—  the  two  thus  separated  by  a  chasm  which  seems  all  but 
impassable  !  A  fearful  approach  ;  a  perilous  contiguity  !  But 
how  shall  it  be  avoided  ?  Shall  this  fair  continent,  adequate 
to  the  support  of  civilized  millions, — on  which  Nature  has 
bestowed  her  richest  bounties, — lie  waste,  the  exclusive 
domain  of  the  savage  and  the  wild  beast  ?  If  not,  how  shall 
it  be  settled  ?  The  age  of  miracles  is  past ;  the  emigrants 
must  be  brought  hither,  and  sustained  here,  by  the  usual 
motives  and  impulses  which  operate  on  the  minds  of  men. 
If  things  are  left  to  second  causes,  the  passion  for  adventure, 
the  lust  of  power,  the  thirst  for  gold,  will  spur  on  the 
remorseless  bands  of  Pizarro  and  Cortes.  Prospects  of  politi- 
cal aggrandizement  and  commercial  profit  must  actuate  the 
planters  of  Virginia.  The  arm  of  spiritual  persecution  must 
drive  out  the  suffering  Puritan  in  search  of  a  place  of  rest. 
In  correspondence  with  the  motives  which  prompt  the  sepa- 
rate expeditions  or  the  individual  leaders,  will  be  the  relations 
established  with  the  natives.  In  Spanish  America,  a  wild 
and  merciless  crusade  will  be  waged  against  them  ;  they  will 
be  hunted  by  the  war-horse  and  the  bloodhound ;  vast  multi- 
tudes will  perish ;  the  residue  will  be  enslaved,  their  labor 
made  a  source  of  profit,  and  they  will  thereby  be  preserved 
from  annihilation.  In  the  Anglo-American  settlements,  trea- 
ties will  be  entered  into,  mutual  rights  acknowledged ;  the 
artificial  relations  of  independent  and  allied  states  will  be 
established ;  and,  as  the  civilized  race  rapidly  multiplies,  the 
native  tribes  will  recede,  sink  into  the  wilderness,  and  disap- 
pear. Millions  of  Mexicans,  escaping  the  exterminating 
sword  of  the  conquerors,  subsist  in  a  miserable  vassalage  to 
the  present  day :  of  the  tribes  that  inhabited  New  England, 
not  an  individual  of  unmixed  blood,  and  speaking  the  lan- 
guage of  his  fathers,  remains. 

Was  this  an  unavoidable  consequence  ?  However  deplor- 
able, there  is  too  much  reason  to  think  that  it  was.  We 
cannot  perceive  in  what  way  the  forest  could  have  been 
cleared,  and  its  place  taken  by  the  cornfield,  without  destroy- 


638  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

ing  the  game ;  in  what  way  the  meadows  could  be  drained, 
and  the  beaver-dams  broken  down,  without  expelling  their 
industrious  little  builders ;  nor  in  what  way  the  uncivilized 
man,  living  by  the  chase,  and  requiring  a  wide  range  of 
forest  for  his  hunting-ground,  destitute  of  arts  and  letters, 
—  belonging  to  a  different  variety  of  the  species,  speaking  a 
different  tongue,  suffering  all  the  disadvantages  of  social  and 
intellectual  inferiority,  —  could  maintain  his  place  by  the  side 
of  the  swelling,  pressing  population,  the  diligence  and  dex- 
terity, the  superior  thrift,  arts,  and  arms,  and  the  seductive 
vices,  of  the  civilized  race. 

I  will  not  say  that  imagination  cannot  picture  a  colonial 
settlement,  where  the  emigrants  should  come  in  such  num- 
bers, with  such  resources,  with  such  principles,  dispositions, 
and  tempers,  as  instantly  to  form  a  kindly  amalgamation  with 
the  native  tribes,  and,  from  the  moment  of  setting  foot  on 
the  new-found  soil,  commence  the  benign  work  of  brother- 
hood and  assimilation.  I  would  not  stint  the  resources,  nor 
sound  the  depths,  of  godlike  benevolence.  But,  in  a  practical 
survey  of  life  on  both  sides,  such  a  consummation  seems 
impossible.  The  new  comers  are  men.  —  men  of  all  tempers 
and  characters.  Their  society  may  be  formed  on  the  plat- 
form of  religion  ;  their  principles  may  be  pure,  lofty,  austere  ; 
their  dispositions  peaceful  ;  their  carriage  mild  and  gentle  ; 
but  their  judgments  will  be  fallible,  and  they  cannot  be 
expected  to  rise  far  above  the  errors  and  prejudices  of  their 
age.  Our  fathers  regarded  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  as 
heathen.  They  bestowed  unwearied  pains  to  Christianize 
them,  and  with  much  greater  success  than  is  generally  sup- 
posed. Still  the  mass  remained  unconverted,  and  an  ominous 
inference  was  drawn  from  the  expulsion  of  the  native  races 
of  Canaan.  Scarcely,  moreover,  were  the  first  colonists  set- 
tled in  Plymouth,  when  licentious  adventurers  followed  in 
their  train,  who  not  only  introduced  among  the  Indian  tribes 
the  destructive  vices  of  the  Europeans,  and  furnished  them 
with  fire-arms  and  weapons  of  steel,  but  by  acts  of  violence 
and  injustice  gave  provocation  for  their  use. 

Then,  too,  we  must  look  on  the  Indian,  not  with  the  eye 


THE    BAT1LE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  639 

of  sentiment  and  romance,  but  of  truth  and  reality.  Seen 
as  he  really  is,  he  stands  low  in  the  scale  of  humanity.  His 
vices  were  not  all  learned  of  the  white  settlers.  Before  the 
European  was  known  on  the  continent,  he  was  perpetually 
engaged  in  exterminating  conflicts  with  the  neighboring 
tribes.  His  merciless  mode  of  waging  war,  —  the  horrors  of 
the  scalping-knife  and  the  stake,  —  are  of  his  own  invention. 
Within  the  bosom  of  his  tribe  he  leads  an  indolent,  a  squalid, 
and  a  cheerless  existence,  alternating  from  repletion  to  starva- 
tion; and  between  tribe  and  tribe  he  is  unacquainted  with 
those  restraints  of  international  law,  which  do  so  much  to 
soften  the  horrors  of  war.  The  superior  race  approaches, 
jealousies  arise,  acts  of  violence  are  committed,  and  war  rages. 
It  is,  in  its  nature,  a  destructive  war,  for  the  savage  rarely 
gives  quarter.  Is  the  blame  all  on  one  side  ?  Does  reason 
require  us  to  trace  all  the  evils  to  the  corruption  of  the 
civilized  race  ?  to  suppose  that  no  malignant  feelings,  no  acts 
of  barbarity,  no  outbreakings  of  savage  rage  or  savage  fraud, 
are  to  be  laid  to  the  account  of  the  untutored  child  of  nature  ? 
There  are  other  considerations  which  must  not  be  over- 
looked in  this  connection.  When  we  contemplate  the  dense 
population  of  the  civilized  settlements  that  now  line  the 
coast,  and  fill  the  interior  regions  adjacent  to  it,  we  must  not 
conclude  that  vast  aboriginal  tribes,  once  occupying  them, 
were  exterminated  to  make  room  for  the  white  race.  This 
portion  of  the  continent  was  very  thinly  peopled  on  the  arri- 
val of  our  fathers.  There  never  were  any  large  towns 
inhabited  by  the  natives  of  New  England  like  those  which 
were  found  by  the  Spaniards,  in  Mexico  and  Peru.  It  was 
probably  not  practicable,  without  the  aid  of  the  arts  of  civil- 
ized life,  without  the  use  of  iron,  and  without  agriculture,  to 
support  a  numerous  population  in  so  cold  a  climate,  on  a 
comparatively  hard  soil,  covered  with  forests.  In  addition  to 
this,  the  tribes  had  been  greatly  reduced  by  a  pestilence  a 
few  years  before  the  commencement  of  the  plantation  at 
Plymouth.  A  constant  and  uniform  statement  was  made  by 
the  Indians  to  the  first  settlers,  that  an  epidemic  disease  ran 
through  this  part  of  New  England  a  few  years  before  the 


640  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  baffling  their  simple  skill,  and  in 
some  cases  reducing  large  clans  almost  to  the  point  of  ex 
tinction. 

In  this  state  of  things,  the  settlers  at  Plymouth,  and  after- 
wards those  of  Massachusetts,  landed  on  the  coast ;  and  fifty- 
five  years — a  period  longer  than  that  which  has  elapsed 
since  the  peace  of  1783  —  passed  away  before  the  com- 
mencement of  hostilities,  in  either  colony,  between  the  set- 
tlers and  the  natives.  It  is  true  that,  in  1636  and  1637,  the 
Pequot  war  broke  out  in  Connecticut,  a  war  in  which  all  the 
New  England  colonies  took  part.  But  the  Pequots  were 
themselves  an  invading  race.  They  had  dispossessed  the 
tribes  which  previously  occupied  the  eastern  portion  of  Con- 
necticut ;  and  when  the  war  with  the  English  commenced, 
the  remnants  of  those  tribes,  cut  off  or  subjugated,  promptly 
seized  the  opportunity  of  revenging  the  injuries  inflicted  on 
themselves  by  the  great  war-chiefs  of  the  Pequots.  In  the 
disastrous  campaigns  of  1636  and  1637,  in  which  that  tribe 
was  destroyed,  one  thousand  persons  are  said  to  have  perished  ; 
and  the  warriors  of  Sassacus  were  computed  at  seven  hun- 
dred. As  every  able-bodied  savage  was  a  warrior,  the  whole 
number  of  his  tribe  could  not  have  exceeded  three  thousand, 
—  a  large  community  to  be  subjugated  by  their  own  or  others' 
wrong,  but  a  small  number  to  lay  claim  to  the  perpetual  reser- 
vation of  a  region  like  Connecticut. 

There  is  still  another  circumstance  of  very  considerable 
interest  in  reference  to  the  melancholy  fate  of  the  New  Eng- 
land Indians.  To  barbarous  tribes,  who  stand  as  low  in  the 
scale  of  humanity  as  the  Pequots  and  Narragansetts,  the  Wam- 
panoags  or  the  Nipmucks,  who  live  by  hunting  and  fishing, 
with  scarce  any  thing  that  can  be  called  agriculture,  and 
wholly  without  arts,  the  removal  from  one  tract  of  country 
to  another  is  comparatively  easy.  A  change  of  abode  implies 
no  great  sacrifice  of  private  interest  or  social  prosperity.  No 
fixed  property  is  destroyed,  no  pursuits  deserted  not  to  be 
resumed,  no  venerable  establishments  broken  up,  none  of  the 
great  and  costly  structures  of  a  civilized  state  of  society 
abandoned.  Nor  is  this  all.  The  extreme  simplicity  of  sav- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK.       641 

age  life  favors  the  amalgamation  of  tribes,  forced  by  circum- 
stances upon  each  other.  As  far  as  we  can  trace  the  relations 
of  the  North  American  tribes  with  each  other,  both  before 
and  since  the  settlement  of  the  country,  an  absorption  of  the 
fragments  of  once  powerful  communities  by  more  prosperous 
tribes,  is  constantly  going  on.  In  no  part  of  the  human  fam- 
ily is  war  so  much  the  business  of  life,  as  among  the  native 
races  of  our  continent ;  nowhere  are  wars  more  sanguinary 
and  fatal ;  and  in  proportion  to  the  simplicity  of  their  mode 
of  life,  is  the  ease  with  which  the  feeble  remnants  of  once 
powerful  but  subjugated  tribes  are  swallowed  up  by  the  vic- 
tor, or  forced  into  union  with  neighboring  friendly  clans.  On 
the  same  principle,  with  the  advance  of  civilization,  the  native 
tribes  receded.  No  wars,  literally  of  extermination,  at  any 
time  were  waged.  The  battles  were  stern,  decisive,  and,  to 
those  engaged  in  them,  fatal.  Prisoners  of  war  were  reduced 
to  slavery,  and  sometimes  sold  into  foreign  bondage.  But  no 
general  and  indiscriminate  slaughter  took  place.  The  num- 
ber of  Indians  slain  in  the  early  wars,  I  take  to  have  been 
not  much  greater  than  that  of  the  whites,  in  the  same  period. 
The  great  majority  of  the  Indians  did  what  the  settlers  of 
Deerfield,  Hadley,  Northampton,  and  Springfield,  were  at 
times  tempted  to  do,  and  would  have  done,  had  the  war  con- 
tinued ;  they  fell  back  upon  their  kindred.  As  the  English 
colonists,  if  the  fortune  of  war  had  been  adverse,  would  have 
gone  back  from  the  Connecticut  River  to  the  coast,  the  In- 
dians, that  hunted  and  fished  on  the  river,  retired  before  the 
advancing  settlements,  united  themselves  with  their  brethren 
farther  west  and  north,  supplying  the  waste  of  their  continual 
wars,  and  easily  incorporated  among  them.* 


*  It  can  be  scarcely  necessary  to  state,  that  considerations  of  this 
kind  have  no  applicability  to  the  questions  recently  agitated  in  the  Unit- 
ed States,  relative  to  the  rights  acquired  by  Indian  tribes,  under  solemn 
compacts,  voluntarily  entered  into  by  the  United  States,  at  the  instance 
and  for  the  benefit  of  an  individual  state,  and  for  considerations  deemed 
advantageous,  at  the  time,  both  to  the  individual  state  and  the  general 
government.  The  author's  opinion  of  those  questions  was  fully  expressed, 
in  the  House  of  Representatives  of  the  United  States,  in  1830  and  1831. 

VOL.    I.  81 


642      THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK. 

I  dwell  the  more  on  this  point,  because  it  is  one  of  vague 
reproach  to  the  memory  of  our  fathers ;  and  yet  I  am  not 
sure  that,  unless  we  deny  altogether  the  rightfulness  of  set- 
tling the  continent,  —  unless  we  maintain  that  it  was  from 
the  origin  unjust  and  wrong  to  introduce  the  civilized  race 
into  America,  and  that  the  whole  of  what  is  now  our  happy 
and  prosperous  country  ought  to  have  been  left,  as  it  was 
found,  the  abode  of  barbarity  and  heathenism,  —  I  am  not 
sure  that  any  different  result  could  have  taken  place.  Had 
the  colonists  and  the  Indians  been  men  without  interests, 
passions,  and  vices,  collisions  and  bloodshed  might  have  been 
avoided ;  but,  taking  white  men  as  they  are,  and  savages  as 
they  are,  looking  on  the  one  hand,  not  for  faultless  perfection 
of  counsel  or  policy,  on  the  part  of  governments  or  individ- 
uals, but  allowing  for  the  occasional  operation  of  human 
weaknesses  in  both,  and  expecting  of  the  Indians  that  they 
will  display  towards  the  new  settlers  the  violence  and  barbar- 
ity which  mark  their  intercourse  with  each  other,  and  which 
belong  to  uncivilized  heathen,  —  I  am  unable  to  see  that 
there  was  on  either  side  great  matter  of  reproach.  On  the 
contrary,  I  see  much  deserving  of  the  highest  commendation, 
in  the  humanity  and  forbearance  of  the  colonists,  and  in  the 
hospitality  and  magnanimity  of  the  Indian  chiefs,  who  for 
an  entire  generation  maintained  the  peace  of  the  country,  in 
the  new  and  critical  condition  of  affairs  in  which  they  were 
placed.*  The  colonies  of  Plymouth  and  Massachusetts  both 
commenced  their  settlements  in  amity  with  the  Indians. 
They  were  welcomed,  in  both  cases,  by  the  tribes  with 
which  they  came  immediately  in  contact.  It  was  the  estab- 
lished policy  of  the  colonists  to  purchase  the  Indian  title  to 
the  land,  at  a  price  regarded  as  satisfactory  by  those  who  dis- 
posed of  it,  and,  by  prohibiting  private  purchases,  to  protect 
the  natives  from  being  overreached  by  adventurers.  I  believe 
that  it  was  with  perfect  justice,  as  it  evidently  was  with 
entire  sincerity,  that  Governor  Winslow  declared,  in  the 

*  See  some  judicious   remarks   on   this  subject  in  Mr  Upham's  Artil 
lery  Election  Sermon,  delivered  June,  1832,  p.  8. 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  643 

spring  of  1676,  that  "before  these  present  troubles  broke 
out,  the  English  did  not  possess  one  foot  of  land  in  the  col- 
ony of  Plymouth,  but  what  was  fairly  obtained  by  honest 
purchase  of  the  Indian  proprietors." 

But,  however  justly  we  may  defend  the  memory  of  our 
fathers  against  the  charge  of  wantonly  pursuing  a  policy  of 
extermination,  it  is  not  the  less  certain  that  the  march  of 
events  was  well  calculated  to  excite  the  jealousy  of  the 
native  tribes.  Every  day's  experience  of  the  growing  power 
of  the  whites  gave  force  to  this  jealousy ;  and  as  war  is  the 
mad  resort  to  which,  in  the  blindness  of  his  passions,  savage 
as  well  as  civilized  man  instinctively  flies,  for  the  redress  of 
all  sorts  of  public  injuries,  real  or  threatened,  it  was  perfectly 
natural  that  the  bold  and  impatient  chiefs  of  the  native  races 
should  at  length  begin  to  contemplate  the  possibility  of 
arresting  by  force  the  progress  of  the  dangerous  intruders. 
They  had  learned  the  use  of  fire-arms,  and  obtained  a  supply 
of  them  from  the  French  in  Nova  Scotia,  the  Dutch  in  New 
York,  and  from  illicit  traders  in  New  England.  It  required 
but  little  discernment  to  perceive  that,  in  every  thing  but  the 
undefined  resources  of  civilized  communities,  (the  extent  of 
which  they  had  not  yet  learned  fully  to  appreciate,)  the 
Indians  greatly  overbalanced  the  colonists.  In  addition  to 
the  general  sense  of  encroachment  and  danger,  it  is  easy  to 
conceive  that  a  thousand  individual  provocations,  on  both 
sides,  must  have  taken  place  between  parties  like  the  whites 
and  the  Indians ;  causing  a  great  amount  of  irritation  and 
bitterness  between  the  two  races. 

Their  relations  towards  each  other  reached  their  crisis  in 
1675.  Thirty-eight  years  had  elapsed  since  the  destruction 
of  Sassacus  and  his  Pequots.  A  race  of  young  warriors  had 
grown  up,  on  whom  the  lesson  of  wisdom  taught  by  that 
catastrophe  was  lost.  As  has  been  just  observed,  they  had 
learned  to  use  and  repair  the  guns,  which  they  had  obtained 
from  various  quarters.  They  were  well  acquainted  with  the 
numbers  and  habits  of  the  settlers,  and  had  found  out  that 
the  proportion  of  non-combatants  to  fighting  men  was  vastly 
greater  than  among  themselves.  The  Narragansetts  and 


644  THE    BATTLE, OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

Pokanokets  were  now  the  most  powerful  of  the  New  Eng« 
land  tribes.  They  occupied  the  old  colony  of  Plymouth 
and  the  state  of  Rhode  Island.  The  latter  was  the  tribe 
with  which  the  settlers  of  Plymouth  first  entered  into  amica- 
ble relations,  under  their  friendly  chief  Massasoit,  and  these 
relations  remained  unimpaired  to  his  death.  He  was  the 
unwavering  friend  of  the  settlers,  and  adhered  with  fidelity 
to  the  compact  which  he  had  formed  with  them,  in  the  very 
infancy  of  the  colony.  Massasoit  died  about  1660.  He 
left  two  sons,  who,  at  their  own  request,  and  during  their 
father's  lifetime,  received  the  English  names  of  Alexander 
and  Philip.  Alexander  was  the  elder,  and  exercised  the 
authority  of  sachem  on  his  father's  death,  not  without  sus- 
picion, how  well  founded  it  is  now  impossible  to  say,  of 
entertaining  hostile  designs  towards  the  colony.  On  his 
death,  he  was  succeeded  by  his  brother  Philip,  a  person 
greatly  the  superior  both  of  his  elder  brother  and  his  father, 
in  reach  of  policy,  capacity,  and  vigor.  With  his  accession 
to  power  in  his  tribe,  the  suspicion  of  unfriendly  purposes 
towards  the  whites  rapidly  increased.  The  government  of 
Plymouth  colony  entertained  serious  fears  that  he  meditated 
mischief  to  the  settlement.  The  government  of  Massachu- 
setts seems  at  first  to  have  thought  these  fears  without  foun- 
dation. Under  its  mediation,  an  interview  between  the  two 
parties  was  brought  about  in  the  meeting-house  at  Taunton, 
in  1671,  the  commissioners  of  Plymouth  and  Massachu- 
setts, and  their  armed  attendants,  being  arrayed  on  one  side 
of  the  church,  and  Philip  and  his  chieftains  on  the  other. 
In  this  conference,  Philip  made  the  submission  which  was 
required  of  him,  renewed  the  compact  with  Plymouth,  and 
agreed  to  give  up  his  fire-arms. 

These  measures,  however  they  may  have  delayed  the  exe- 
cution of  his  projects,  no  doubt  confirmed  him,  by  the  sense 
of  new  injury,  in  his  ultimate  design  ;  and  from  this  period, 
he  is  supposed  to  have  meditated  the  dangerous  project  of  a 
union  of  all  the  tribes  in  New  England  against  the  colonists 

And  here  let  us  pause  for  a  moment,  to  reflect  on  the  re- 
spective condition  and  strength  of  the  parties.  Accustomed 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK.       645 

to  what  we  see  around  us  of  the  power  and  resources  of  the 
United  States,  with  only  a  fading  tradition  of  the  strength 
of  the  Indians,  and  with  our  minds  habitually  impressed 
with  the  essential  superiority  of  the  white  race,  we  are  in 
danger  of  greatly  mistaking  the  relative  strength  of  the  par- 
ties. Very  different  was  an  Indian  war,  a  century  and  a  half 
ago,  from  those  which  are  waged  at  the  present  day,  in 
which,  from  the  bosom  of  the  overswarming  population  of 
the  States,  regiments  of  infantry,  artillery,  and  dragoons  are 
sent  out,  to  trample  down  the  enervated  remnants  of  once 
warlike  races,  with  the  certainty,  on  both  sides,  if  that  force 
should  fail,  that  another,  twice  as  powerful,  would  instantly 
take  its  place.  The  population  of  New  England  at  this 
period  (1675)  is  not  accurately  known.  It  is  conjecturally 
stated  by  Chalmers  at  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand. 
But  Dr  Trumbull,  by  an  accurate  deduction  from  the  known 
number  of  the  militia  of  Connecticut,  and  the  proportion  it 
bore  in  the  levies  of  the  United  Colonies,  reduces  it  to  one 
third  of  that  amount,  which  I  am  inclined  to  think  much 
nearer  the  truth.  The  whole  interior  of  the  country  was 
unsettled.  The  region  west  of  Connecticut  was  a  pathless 
wilderness,  and  that  portion  of  it  now  within  the  states  of 
Massachusetts  and  Vermont  was  unoccupied  even  by  savages. 
There  were  a  few  feeble  settlements  on  the  coasts  of  Maine 
and  New  Hampshire.  In  Massachusetts  there  weressmall 
settlements  at  Westfield,  Springfield,  Northampton,  Hadley, 
Hatfield,  Deerfield,  and  North  field ;  some  of  them  rather 
stations  than  settlements.  After  leaving  the  river  to  go  to 
the  east,  Brookfield  was  the  first  settlement,  and  this,  with 
Lancaster,  was  the  only  settlement  in  Worcester  county. 
Medfield,  Sudbury,  Marlborough,  Groton,  Chelmsford,  formed 
the  frontier,  and  were  all  attacked  by  the  Indians  in  the 
course  of  Philip's  war.  The  danger  of  the  settlements  was 
so  great,  that  all  the  male  inhabitants  were  required  to  be 
armed ;  and  although  the  country  was  penetrated  with  the 
liveliest  sense  of  peril,  and  numerous  volunteers  marched 
against  the  enemy,  men,  horses,  and  provisions  were  contin- 
ually called  for,  by  the  severest  exercise  of  the  power  of 
impressment. 


646  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

The  numbers  of  the  Indians  are  not  more  accurately 
known  than  those  of  the  colonists.  The  warriors  under 
the  immediate  command  of  Philip  are  supposed  to  have 
amounted  to  seven  hundred.  Those  of  the  Narragansetts, 
who  joined  him  in  the  course  of  the  war,  are  estimated  at  two 
thousand.  The  tribes  which  occupied  the  central  portions 
of  the  state,  and  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  who  were  drawn 
by  Philip  into  the  contest,  cannot  be  estimated  at  less  than 
seven  or  eight  hundred  more  ;  making  the  entire  hostile  force 
about  thirty-five  hundred. 

Many  of  the  advantages  of  the  contest  were  on  the  side 
of  the  Indians.  War  was  their  hereditary  pursuit ;  boldness 
and  fortitude,  the  capacity  of  effort  and  fatigue,  their  chief 
virtues.  The  generation  of  colonists  then  on  the  stage  was 
wholly  unused  to  war.  Thirty-eight  years  had  passed  since 
the  conquest  of  the  Pequots,  and  the  military  forces  now 
raised  were  drawn,  to  a  great  extent,  by  conscription,  from 
the  various  walks  of  industrious,  peaceful  life.  The  Indians 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  constant  intercourse  with  the  set 
tiers.  Theyknew  the  position  of  their  towns,  and  even  ot 
their  houses,  fields,  and  places  of  worship.  They  knew  the 
persons  of  the  leading  men ;  and  were  able  to  choose  the 
best  place  for  an  ambuscade,  and  the  best  time  for  an  assault. 
Sundays  and  fast-days  were  the  chosen  times  for  an  attack ; 
for  then,  observation  had  taught  them,  though  the  men  went 
armed  to  "  meeting,"  that  the  aged  and  the  defenceless,  the 
women  and  the  children,  were  led,  by  the  strong  sense  of 
religious  duty,  to  venture  abroad.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
colonists  had,  of  necessity,  but  a  limited  acquaintance  with 
the  haunts  of  the  Indians,  in  the  forests  and  the  swamps. 
The  Indians,  though  not  as  well  furnished  with  arms,  were 
better  marksmen  than  the  English.  The  state  of  the  roads, 
and  the  nature  of  Indian  warfare,  excluded  the  use  of  artil- 
lery ;  and  the  peculiar  weapons  of  the  savage,  —  the  toma- 
hawk and  the  scalping-knife,  —  with  the  inhuman  tortures 
inflicted  on  the  prisoners,  carried  terrors  to  hearts  unshaken 
by  common  perils.  Caesar  tells  us  that  when,  for  the  first 
time,  he  was  about  to  come  into  conflict  with  the  barbarous 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BKOOK.       647 

Germans,  —  a  race  which  stood  at  about  the  same  point,  on 
the  scale  of  civilization,  as  the  North  American  Indians,  — 
many  of  the  young  officers  who  had  followed  him  from 
Rome,  panic-struck  with  the  thought  of  a  battle  with  the 
dreaded  barbarians,  sought  excuses  for  asking  a  furlough ; 
and  those  whose  pride  forbade  their  quitting  the  army,  hid 
themselves  in  their  tents  and  wept.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  if  the  horrors  of  Indian  warfare  were  felt  by  the  young 
men  of  Massachusetts,  who  were  dragged  from  the  plough 
and  the  workshop,  and  forced  to  plunge  into  pathless  woods 
and  frightful  swamps,  in  search  of  the  ferocious  savage. 

Both  parties  concentrated  their  strength,  as  for  a  decisive 
struggle.  The  confederation  among  the  colonies,  formed  in 
1643,  of  which  defence  against  the  Indians  was  the  main 
object,  had  experienced  some  interruption,  but  was  revived 
at  the  commencement  of  the  war.  A  little  more  than  half 
the  troops  raised  in  the  United  Colonies  were  apportioned  01, 
Massachusetts.  Philip,  on  the  other  hand,  had,  as  is  sup- 
posed, for  some  years  labored  to  effect  a  general  confederacy 
of  the  Indian  tribes.  There  are  not  wanting  even  sugges- 
tions, that  he  endeavored  to  rouse  the  native  tribes  as  far 
south  as  Virginia ;  but  these  suggestions  are  chiefly  entitled 
to  notice  as  indications  of  the  opinion  formed  by  the 
English  writers  of  the  reach  of  his  policy  and  activity  of 
his  movements.  I  see  in  the  contemporary  accounts  no 
proof  of  any  such  remote  operations.  But  the  events  of  the 
war  showed  that  he  had  labored  with  success  among  all  the 
Indians  in  New  England,  with  the  exception  of  the  Mohe- 
gans,  and  that  he  narrowly  failed  to  engage  the  Mohawks  in 
the  contest.  It  deserves  remark,  that  in  this  fearful  struggle 
for  life  and  death,  not  a  dollar  nor  a  man  was  furnished  by 
the  mother  country  for  the  defence  of  the  colonies. 

The  designs  of  Philip  were  penetrated  by  his  secretary, 
Sausamon,  a  converted  Indian  well  acquainted  with  the  Eng- 
lish language,  and  by  this  channel  they  were  disclosed  to  the 
English.  Sausamon  was  immediately  after  murdered  on  the 
ice  on  Middleborough  Pond,  by  order  of  Philip,  and  the 
agency  of  some  of  his  chief  men.  The  murder  took  place 


648      THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK. 

within  the  jurisdiction  of  Plymouth,  and  those  concerned  in 
it,  three  in  number,  were  immediately  brought  to  justice. 
This  happened  in  the  spring  of  1675,  and  hastened  the  com- 
mencement of  hostilities,  which  had  been  reserved  by  Philip 
for  the  following  year.  He  was  now  compelled  to  plunge 
into  the  contest,  without  the  aid  of  the  Narragarisetts,  who 
were  not  yet  prepared.  The  Indians  had  a  superstition,  that 
the  party  which  struck  the  first  blow  would  be  defeated. 
For  this  reason,  they  took  pains,  by  repeated  insults  and 
threats,  by  killing  their  cattle,  and  plundering  their  houses, 
to  bring  on  an  actual  commencement  of  hostilities,  on  the  part 
of  the  settlers.  Irritated  by  these  provocations,  an  English- 
man at  last  fired  at  and  mortally  wounded  an  Indian.  The 
alarm  spread ;  intelligence  of  the  state  of  things  reached 
Plymouth  and  Boston,  and  troops  were  put  in  motion.  The 
Indians  anticipated  their  arrival  by  an  attack  on  the  town  of 
Swansea,  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  June,  1675.  The  inhab- 
itants were  fired  upon,  on  their  return  from  public  worship, 
and  ten  were  killed  in  different  parts  of  the  town  on 
that  day. 

Thus  was  the  blow  struck,  and  a  war  commenced,  not  in- 
ferior in  magnitude,  compared  with  the  population  of  the 
parties  engaged  in  it,  to  the  revolutionary  war ;  nor  of  minor 
importance,  if  we  contemplate  the  consequences,  had  the 
Indians  prevailed.  Among  the  romantic  traits  with  which 
his  biographers  have  adorned  the  character  of  Philip,  they 
have  described  him  as  shedding  tears,  when  told  that  his 
young  men  had  begun  the  war.  Fifty  years  after  his  fall, 
the  neighboring  inhabitants  of  Bristol,  and  the  aged  Indians 
who  had  survived  the  war,  pointed  out  the  spring  where 
Philip  was  seated  when  he  received  the  news  of  the  tragedy 
dt  Swansea,  and  wept  at  the  thoughts  of  the  destruction 
which  impended  over  his  race.* 

But  the  die  was  cast.  Sorrowful  or  joyous,  Philip  roused 
himself,  with  all  his  energies,  to  the  war.  Retreating  before 
the  embodied  forces  of  Plymouth  and  Massachusetts,  his 

*  Callendar's  Sermon,  p.  73. 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  649 

warriors  were  divided  into  bands,  and  scattered  along  the 
frontier  settlements,  carrying  terror  and  havoc  before  them. 
Swansea  was  destroyed,  Taimton  was  attacked,  Middle- 
borough  and  Dartmouth  burned,  and  all  Plymouth  filled 
with  alarm.  Surrounded  in  a  swamp  at  Pocasset,  the  iron 
grasp  of  Church  almost  upon  him,  the  flames  of  Brookfield 
announce  that  the  theatre  of  the  war  is  changed,  and  thither 
the  chieftain  and  his  principal  warriors  repaired.  From  the 
smoking  ashes  of  Brookfield  the  scene  is  shifted  to  Connecti- 
cut River ;  and  Hadley,  Hatfield,  and  Deerfield,  are  in  arms. 

While  the  Indians  hovered  about  Brookfield,  a  considerable 
force  from  the  eastern  part  of  the'  state,  from  Springfield,  and 
Connecticut,  was  concentrated  there,  under  the  skilful  com- 
mand of  Major  Willard.  When  the  Indians  disappeared  from 
Brookfield,  and  showed  themselves  in  this  region,  Major  Wil- 
lard marched,  with  a  part  of  his  forces,  to  Hadley.  Here  the 
principal  station  of  defence  was  assumed,  and  the  companies 
of  Captain  Lothrop  and  Captain  Beers,  of  Watertown,  were 
left  in  garrison.  Major  Willard  returned  to  the  eastern  part 
of  the  state,  and  the  chief  command  devolved  on  Major 
Pynchon,  of  Springfield.  The  Indians,  at  Hadley,  already 
in  secret  understanding  with  Philip,  on  his  arrival  in  their 
neighborhood,  threw  off  the  mask.  By  professions  of  friendly 
intentions,  they  had  obtained  a  supply  of  arms,  and  had  been 
intrusted  with  the  defence  of  a  fort  about  a  mile  above  Hat- 
field.  The  English  received  intelligence  that  they  were 
preparing  to  desert  the  fort  and  join  the  enemy.  Determined 
that  they  should  not  carry  with  them  the  weapons  with 
which  they  had  been  furnished  for  the  defence  of  the  settle- 
ment, Captains  Lothrop  and  Beers,  with  one  hundred  men, 
were  sent  to  disarm  them.  The  Indians  had  already  fled  in 
the  night  to  Deerfield.  Lothrop  and  Beers  came  up  with 
them  in  the  morning,  in  a  swamp,  a  short  distance  south  of 
the  Sugar-loaf  Hill,  when  an  action  ensued,  in  which  ten  of 
the  English  and  twenty-six  of  the  Indians  were  slain.  This 
was  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  August,  (old  style,)  1675. 

The  first  of  September  following  was  a  day  of  alarm  and 
blood.  The  woods  from  Hadley  to  Northfield  were  filled 
VOL.  i.  82 


650  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

with  lurking  bands  of  savages.  Deerfield  was  attacked  on 
that  day,  and  many  of  the  houses  and  barns  in  the  settlement 
were  burned.  Hadley  was  assailed  on  the  same  day.  It  was 
a  day  observed  as  a  fast  by  the  church  in  that  place.  While 
the  inhabitants  were  engaged  in  the  religious  services,  the 
savages  burst  in  upon  the  village.  Although  it  was  the  prac- 
tice to  go  armed  to  church,  yet,  taken  by  surprise  at  the 
sudden  inroad,  the  inhabitants  were  thrown  into  confusion. 
The  savage  foe  rushes  on ;  the  citizens  are  about  to  disperse 
and  fly.  At  the  moment  of  greatest  confusion  and  danger, 
a  venerable  stranger  appeared,  of  commanding  aspect,  clothed 
in  black  apparel,  of  unusual  fashion,  his  hair  white  from  age. 
With  sword  in  hand,  he  places  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
flying  inhabitants,  encourages  them  to  stand  and  resist  the 
enemy,  animates  them  at  once  by  his  example  and  his  voice, 
disposes  them  in  the  most  advantageous  manner,  fights 
valiantly  at  their  head,  and  repulses  the  enemy.  This  done, 
he  vanishes  as  promptly  as  he  appeared.  The  superstitious 
Indians,  not  less  than  the  devout  and  awe-struck  English, 
believed  it  was  an  angel.  The  wish  to  conceal  the  place  of 
refuge  of  the  fugitives  for  a  long  time  prevented  an  explana 
tion  of  the  fact.  In  the  course  of  time  it  was  discovered  to 
have  been  General  Gofie,  one  of  the  judges  who  sat  in  the 
trial  of  Charles  L,  and  who,  taking  refuge  on  this  the  very 
frontier  of  the  British  empire,  with  one  of  his  colleagues, 
Whalley,  had  for  many  years  lived  in  concealment  in  the 
house  of  Mr  Russell,  the  minister  at  Hadley. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  settlements  on  the  river,  and  indeed 
in  the  frontier  towns  generally,  were  obliged  either  wholly  to 
confine  themselves  to  the  garrisoned  houses,  as  they  were 
called,  or  to  flee  to  them  on  the  first  alarm,  abandoning  their 
homes  and  property  to  pillage  and  conflagration.  On  the  day 
following  the  assaults  on  Deerfield  and  Hadley,  a  party  went 
out  from  the  garrison  at  Northfield,  then  called  Squakeag,  to 
work  in  the  fields.  Eight  of  their  number  were  shot  down 
by  the  invisible  foe.  Order  had  been  already  taken  to  remove 
the  settlers  from  Northfield,  it  being  considered  too  exposed 
a  position.  On  the  third  of  September,  not  having  heard  of 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  651 

the  tragedy  of  the  preceding  day,  Captain  Beers,  of  Water- 
lown,  was  despatched  from  Hadley,  with  a  detachment  of 
between  thirty  and  forty  mounted  men,  to  bring  off  the 
inhabitants  of  Northfield.  He  passed  in  safety  through  the 
forest,  which  stretched  along  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river, 
the  tract  of  country  now  occupied  by  Sunderland,  Montague, 
and  Erving's  grant.  He  had  crossed  Miller's  river  before  he 
saw  any  traces  of  the  enemy.  Having  passed  the  night 
about  three  miles  from  the  place  of  his  destination,  on  the 
morning  of  the  fourth,  they  were  attacked  by  a  large  body 
of  Indians  before  they  could  regain  their  horses.  Captain 
Beers  and  several  men  were  killed  at  the  commencement  of 
the  action.  Attempting  to  reach  their  horses,  twelve  more 
fell ;  a  small  remnant  only  found  their  way  back  to  Hadley. 
On  the  following  day,  the  fifth,  Major  Treat,  who  com- 
manded the  Connecticut  troops,  was  detached  from  Hadley, 
with  a  hundred  men,  to  chastise  the  Indians.  But  they  fled 
before  the  approach  of  a  commanding  force  into  the  forest. 
The  heads  of  Captain  Beers's  unfortunate  men  exposed  on 
stakes  where  they  fell,  and  their  mangled  bodies  suspended 
from  the  trees,  bore  witness  to  the  fatal  issue  of  the  battle. 
Major  Treat  continued  his  march  without  interruption,  though 
his  troops  were  fired  upon  by  the  concealed  foe.  and  he  him- 
self struck  with  a  spent  ball ;  but  no  one  was  killed,  and  the 
inhabitants  in  garrison  at  Northfield  were  brought  off  in 
safety.  On  his  way  back,  he  fell  in  with  Captain  Appleton, 
who,  in  expectation  of  a  serious  conflict,  had  followed  him 
from  Hadley,  with  a  reinforcement,  and  who  was  desirous 
of  pursuing  the  enemy  to  his  hiding-places.  But  it  was 
judged  inexpedient,  without  more  accurate  information  of 
their  numbers,  to  plunge  into  the  forest,  and  the  united  force 
returned  to  Hadley.  Northfield,  thus  abandoned  by  the  in- 
habitants, was  immediately  burned  by  the  Indians. 

Among  the  papers  preserved  in  the  public  archives,  I  have 
found  a  list  of  the  unfortunate  men  who  were  killed  with 
Captain  Beers,  or  made  prisoners  when  he  fell.  He  was  an 
officer  of  sterling  valor,  a  public  servant  of  approved  patriotism 
and  usefulness.  At  the  time  when  he  fell,  in  the  service  of 


652      THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK. 

his  country,  he  was,  as  he  had  been  for  thirteen  years,  the 
representative  of  Watertown  in  the  General  Court,  and 
deserves  that  his  name  should  be  held  in  honorable  remem- 
brance. No  monument  —  the  work  of  men's  hands  —  marks 
the  spot  where  he  fell  ;  but  tradition  has  affixed  his  name  to 
the  plain  where  the  death-struggle  began,  and  to  the  moun- 
tain where  he  sunk  before  the  barbarous  foe,  and  will  hand 
it  down  to  the  latest  posterity. 

By  the  destruction  of  North  field,  Deerfield  became  the 
frontier  settlement  on  Connecticut  River,  and  as  such  was 
again  doomed  to  bear  the  brunt  of  savage  warfare.  On  the 
twelfth,  as  a  portion  of  the  inhabitants,  twenty-two  in  num- 
ber, were  passing  from  one  of  the  garrisoned  houses  to  attend 
worship  in  the  other,  they  were  fired  upon,  but  no  one  was 
slain.  The  empty  garrison  house  was  set  on  fire,  and  one 
man  left  in  it  was  heard  of  no  more.  Aid  was  despatched 
from  Hadley,  under  Captain  Lothrop,  who,  with  the  men  at 
Deerfield,  under  Captain  Appleton,  engaged  in  an  unsuccess- 
ful pursuit  of  the  flying  enemy.  The  master  genius  who 
guided  them  had  taught  them  to  carry  on  exclusively  a  war- 
fare of  ambuscade  and  surprise. 

While  these  events  occurred  on  Connecticut  River,  those 
parts  of  the  country  where  the  war  broke  out  were  compara- 
tively tranquil.  No  man  had  seen  King  Philip  on  Connecticut 
River;  he  constantly  went  disguised,  even  from  his  friends, 
and  never  passed  the  night  twice  in  the  same  spot.  He  was 
known  at  this  time  to  be  in  this  neighborhood  by  the  transfer 
of  the  war  to  this  quarter,  by  the  report  of  friendly  Indians, 
who  acted  as  spies,  and  by  those  who  occasionally  came  in 
as  deserters.  In  the  following  winter,  Mrs  Rowlandson,  who 
was  made  prisoner  at  Lancaster,  saw  him  frequently  in  this 
region.  The  terror  of  his  name  wrought  powerfully  on 
weaker  minds  ;  and  as  he  was  never  encountered  in  the  field, 
nor  identified  among  those  exposed  to  the  chances  of  war, 
the  boldest  began  to  regard  him  with  something  of  that  un- 
defined dread,  inspired  by  an  invisible  and  malignant  spirit 
of  evil,  ranging  the  gloomy  forest,  lighting  up  the  darkness 
of  night  by  the  blaze  of  peaceful  hamlets,  pointing  the 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  653 

death-volley,  from  the  ambuscade,  at  the  wayfarer  and  hus- 
bandman, and  vanishing  with  the  light  of  day,  or  at  the 
approach  of  a  powerful  force. 

Having  thus  sketched  the  progress  of  the  war  in  its  prelimi- 
nary scenes,  we  are  brought  to  the  affecting  tragedy,  which  is 
the  more  immediate  object  of  this  day's  commemoration.  The 
presence  of  Philip  on  the  river  made  it  necessary  to  establish 
a  formidable  force  in  some  convenient  position.  Hadley, 
which  had  been  selected  for  this  purpose  by  Massachusetts, 
was  adopted  by  the  commissioners  of  the  United  Colonies  as 
the  most  suitable  place  for  the  head-quarters  of  the  little 
army.  Small  detachments  were  posted  at  the  other  settle- 
ments ;  but  here  was  concentrated  the  greater  part  of  the 
troops  assigned  to  this  quarter.  It  of  course  became  neces- 
sary to  increase  the  supply  of  provisions  at  Hadley.  A  con- 
siderable quantity  of  wheat  being  preserved  in  stacks  at 
Deerfield,  it  was  deemed  expedient  to  have  it  threshed,  and 
brought  down  to  Hadley.  Captain  Lothrop  and  his  company 
volunteered  to  proceed  to  Deerfield,  and  protect  the  convoy. 
His  march  from  Hadley  was  effected  without  interruption  j 
the  wheat  was  threshed,  placed  in  eighteen  wagons,  with  a 
portion  of  the  effects  of  the  inhabitants  of  Deerfield,  disposed 
to  remove,  and  the  train  moved  down  the  road  towards  its 
destination.  Captain  Moseley,  who  had  arrived  011  Connecti- 
cut River  three  days  before,  was  at  this  time  stationed  with 
his  company  at  Deerfield,  and  proposed,  while  Captain  Loth- 
rop was  on  the  march  downward,  to  range  the  woods  in 
search  of  the  enemy. 

Moseley  was  a  partisan  of  great  skill  and  courage  ;  he  had 
commanded  a  privateer  in  the  West  Indies.  It  is  not  im- 
probable that  Captain  Lothrop  and  his  men,  relying  too  much 
on  Moseley's  cooperation,  proceeded  without  due  caution. 
Having  passed  with  safety  through  a  level  and  closely- 
wooded  country,  well  calculated  for  a  surprise,  and  deeming 
themselves  in  some  degree  sheltered  by  the  nature  of  the 
ground  they  had  reached,  the  tradition  is,  that  on  their  arrival 
at  the  spot  near  which  we  are  now  assembled,  their  vigilance 
relaxed.  The  forest  that  lines  the  narrow  road,  on  which 


654  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

they  were  marching,  was  hung  with  clusters  of  grapes ;  and. 
as  the  wagons  dragged  through  the  heavy  soil,  it  is  not  un- 
likely that  the  teamsters,  and  possibly  a  part  of  the  company, 
may  have  dispersed  to  gather  them.  Such  is  the  contempo- 
rary account.  At  this  moment  of  fatal  security,  and  just  as 
they  had  reached  the  brook  which  winds  through  the  village, 
a  band  of  savages,  outnumbering  Captain  Lothrop's  com- 
pany ten  to  one,  pours  in  upon  them  a  murderous  fire  from 
their  ambuscade  on  the  right  of  the  line  of  march.  A  con- 
siderable number  drop  at  the  first  volley.  The  Indians 
spring  from  their  covert  upon  the  survivors,  who,  broken  and 
scattered  by  the  overwhelming  attack,  fly  to  the  shelter  of 
the  forest,  on  the  spot  where  we  stand.  Here  ensued  the 
death-struggle  ;  escape  was  impossible.  The  young  men  fled 
each  to  his  tree,  imitating  the  barbarous  foe  in  his  mode  of 
warfare,  and  determined  to  sell  their  lives  as  dearly  as  pos- 
sible. But  the  enemy  amounted  to  seven  hundred ;  the 
force  of  Captain  Lothrop,  weakened  by  the  first  fatal  fire, 
fell  below  a  tenth  of  that  number.  His  men  were  conse- 
quently surrounded,  singled  out,  shot  down,  crushed  by  over- 
whelming numbers,  and  finally  sunk,  one  great  and  fearful 
sacrifice,  to  the  tomahawk.  Lothrop  fell  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  action,  "  a  godly  and  courageous  commander :  " 
the  loss  of  their  leader  increased  the  confusion  of  the  scene ; 
and,  before  its  close,  the  whole  company,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  who  escaped,  was  destroyed. 

The  cruel  fate  of  these  unfortunate  young  men  did  not 
remain  long  unavenged.  While  the  Indians  were  employed 
in  mangling,  scalping,  and  stripping  the  dying  and  the  dead, 
Captain  Moseley,  who,  as  has  been  observed,  was  ranging  the 
woods,  hearing  the  report  of  musketry,  hastened,  by  a  forced 
march,  to  the  relief  of  his  brethren.  The  Indians,  confiding 
in  their  superior  numbers,  taunted  him  as  he  advanced,  and 
dared  him  to  the  contest.  Moseley  came  on  with  firmness, 
repeatedly  charged  through  them,  and  destroyed  a  large  num- 
ber, with  the  loss  on  his  side  of  but  two  killed  and  eleven 
wounded.  His  lieutenants,  Savage  and  Pickering,  greatly 
distinguished  themselves  on  this  occasion.  He  was,  how- 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  655 

ever,  so  greatly  outnumbered,  that,  though  he  sustained  the 
action  from  eleven  o'clock  till  evening,  he  did  not  succeed 
in  driving  the  enemy  from  the  field.  At  this  juncture,  Major 
Treat  arrived  with  a  hundred  soldiers,  and  sixty  Mohegan 
Indians,  and,  joining  his  forces  with  Captain  Moselev's,  drove 
the  enemy  from  the  field  of  the  hard-fought  and  murderous 
action.  They  fled  across  the  brook/  about  two  miles  to  the 
westward,  closely  pursued  by  the  American  force,  and  here 
the  action  was  probably  suspended  by  the  night.  A  quantity 
of  bones,  lately  found  in  that  quarter,  is  very  probably  the 
remains  of  the  Indians  who  fell  there  at  the  close  of  the 
action. 

The  united  English  force  encamped  for  the  night  at  Deer- 
field.  They  returned  in  the  morning  to  bury  the  dead,  and 
found  a  part  of  the  Indians  upon  the  field,  stripping  the  bodies 
of  the  victims.  These  they  quickly  dispersed,  and  the  re- 
mains of  the  brave  young  men,  or  some  portion  of  them, 
were  committed  to  the  earth,  near  the  spot  which  we  have 
this  day  consecrated  anew  to  their  memory. 

A  list  of  the  brave  men  who  fell  with  Lothrop,  with  the 
names  of  the  towns  to  which  they  belonged,  has  been  pre- 
served in  the  public  archives.*  They  were  fifty-nine  in 
number,  and  three  of  Captain  Moseley's  shared  the  same 
fate.  The  accounts  vary  as  to  the  number  who  escaped. 
Hubbard  states  them  as  not  above  seven  or  eight ;  a  letter 
written  by  Mr  Cotton,  five  days  after  the  event,  reduces  the 
number  to  two.  A  tradition  still  preserved  at  Newbury 
gives  us  the  names  of  two  out  of  three  reputed  survivors. 
An  individual  who  died  at  Newbury,  in  the  year  1824,  at  the 
age  of  ninety-seven,  was  well  acquainted  with  Henry  Bod- 
well  and  John  Tappan,  two  of  Captain  Lothrop's  soldiers. 
Bodwell  was  a  man  of  great  strength.  His  left  arm  was 
broken  by  a  musket  ball ;  but,  forcing  his  way  with  the  but- 
end  of  his  musket  through  a  band  of  Indians,  who  endeav- 
ored to  surround  him,  he  got  safe  to  Hadley.  John  Tappan 
crept  into  the  channel  of  a  watercourse,  and  drew  the  grass 

*  See  note  at  the  end  of  this  address. 


656      THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK. 

and  shrubs  over  his  head.*  The  Indians  passed  near  him 
repeatedly,  but  he  was  not  discovered.  The  escape  of  a 
third,  Robert  Dutch,  of  Ipswich,  was  still  more  extraordinary. 
He  received  a  musket  shot  in  the  head,  was  wounded  by  a 
tomahawk,  stripped  of  his  clothing,  and  left  for  dead.  On 
the  approach  of  Captain  Moseley,  he  revived,  and  was 
rescued. 

The  tidings  of  this  disastrous  day  spread  alarm  and  sorrow 
through  the  colony.  Essex  felt  the  bereavement  in  almost 
every  family.  The  flower  of  her  population  —  her  hopeful 
young  men,  "all  culled  out  of  the  towns  belonging  to  that 
county,"  called  by  the  voice  of  duty,  in  the  morning  of  life, 
to  leave  their  homes  and  kindred,  and  encounter  all  the  hor- 
rors of  savage  warfare  —  was  cut  down.  By  the  records 
of  the  ancient  town  of  Newbury,  it  appears  that,  on  the  fifth 
of  August,  there  were  impressed,  to  go  against  the  Indian 
enemy,  nine  men  ;  on  the  sixth,  seven  more  ;  on  the  twenty- 
seventh,  seven  more.  From  August  fifth  to  September 
twenty-seventh,  there  were  impressed,  in  the  single  town  of 
Newbury,  thirty  men  and  forty-six  horses  —  facts  that  show 
the  prodigious  severity  of  the  military  service  of  the  colony 
at  that  period, — vastly  greater  than  at  any  subsequent  period 
in  the  history  of  the  country. 

The  catastrophe  of  the  eighteenth  of  September  —  the 
day  we  commemorate  —  was  the  heaviest  which  had  befallen 
the  colony.  "  It  was  a  sadder  rebuke  of  Providence,"  says 
Dr  Increase  Mather,  "  than  any  thing  that  hitherto  hath 
been,"  —  "a  black  and  fatal  day,  wherein  there  were  eight 
persons  made  widows,  and  six-and-twenty  children  made 
fatherless,  and  about  sixty  persons  buried  in  one  fatal  grave. "f 

Time  would  fail  me  to  recount  in  detail  the  succeeding 
incidents  of  the  war ;  but  they  ought  not  to  be  dismissed 
without  an  allusion.  Deerfield  was  soon  deserted  by  the 

*  There  is  some  reason  to  think  that  this  tradition  refers  to  another 
action  in  this  neighborhood. 

f  The  spot  has  recently  been  identified  by  excavation,  on  the  road- 
sidi!,  directly  in  front  of  the  house  of  Stephen  Whitney,  Esq.,  of  South 
Deerfield. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK.        657 

inhabitants,  and  burned  by  the  Indians.  Springfield  was 
next  assaulted,  and  a  considerable  portion  of  it  was  sacked 
and  burned.  On  the  nineteenth  of  October,  Hadley  was 
again  attacked  by  a  powerful  force,  but  by  the  vigorous  and 
successful  resistance  of  the  troops,  then  under  the  chief  com- 
mand of  Captain  Samuel  Appleton,  was  rescued.  A  predatory 
warfare  was  kept  up,  during  the  rest  of  the  Etutumn,  on  the 
remaining  settlements  on  Connecticut  River,  but  the  storm 
of  war  was  carried  back  to  the  place  of  its  origin.  The 
great  Narragansett  expedition,  in  which  the  combined  forces 
of  Massachusetts,  Plymouth,  and  Connecticut,  were  placed 
under  Governor  Winslow,  of  Plymouth,  as  comrnander-in- 
chief,  took  place  in  December.  On  the  nineteenth  of  that 
month,  the  great  battle  of  Petaquamscot  was  fought,  which, 
for  the  zeal  with  which  the  men,  after  a  march  of  fifteen 
miles  in  a  snow-storm,  went  into  the  action,  the  bravery  with 
which  it  was  fought,  the  destruction  of  the  enemy,  and  the 
hardships  endured  by  the  troops,  in  a  night  march  of  eighteen 
miles,  in  the  depth  of  winter,  after  the  battle,  has  no  parallel 
in  our  history.  Six  captains  fell  at  the  head  of  their  com- 
panies. By  this  battle,  the  power  of  the  Narragansetts  was 
effectually  broken.  Among  the  plunder  of  the  day  were 
muskets  which  had  belonged  to  Captain  Lothrop's  men.  The 
Indians  who  escaped  from  the  slaughter  fled  to  the  Nipmuck 
country. 

Winter  gave  no  respite  to  this  tremendous  war.  In  Feb- 
ruary, Lancaster  fell ;  and,  in  appalling  succession,  Medfield, 
Weymouth,  Groton,  Warwick,  Marlborough,  Rehoboth,  Prov- 
idence, Chelmsford,  Sudbury,  Scituate,  Bridgewater,  Plym- 
outh, and  Middleborough,  were  assaulted,  and  wholly  or  in 
part  destroyed  before  the  middle  of  May.  No  period  of  the 
revolutionary  war  was,  to  the  interior  of  any  part  of  the 
United  States,  so  disastrous.  In  May,  from  the  lower  part  of 
the  state  the  scene  of  action  again  shifted  to  Connecticut  River. 
On  the  eighteenth  of  May,  a  large  body  of  Indians,  concen- 
trated at  Deerfield.  was  surprised  by  an  English  force  from  the 
lower  towns,  and  several  hundreds  were  destroyed.  The 
fortune  of  the  day  was  unhappily  clouded,  at  its  close,  by  the 
VOL.  i.  83 


658  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

loss  of  Captain  Turner,  and  a  considerable  number  of  men, 
On  the  twelfth  of  June,  another  furious  attack  was  made  on 
Hadley,  but  successfully  resisted  by  the  troops. 

Again  the  main  body  of  the  enemy  disappeared  from  this 
region,  and  emerged  in  the  Narragansett  country.  They  were 
keenly  pursued,  and  in  the  months  of  July  and  August  sus- 
tained several  Vigorous  defeats.  The  tide  of  fortune  turned 
at  once.  About  a  twelvemonth  from  the  commencement  of 
the  war,  the  Indians  became  disheartened  and  spiritless,  and 
made  their  submission  in  great  numbers  to  the  colonial 
governments. 

Philip  still  stood  at  bay.  He  had  endeavored,  by  an  arti- 
fice of  cruel  treachery,  to  enlist  the  Mohawks  in  the  war. 
But  his  murderous  fraud  was  discovered,  and  the  Mohawks, 
instead  of  joining,  swore  enmity  to  him.  He  was  accord- 
ingly driven  back  to  the  neighborhood  of  Mount  Hope,  and 
abandoned  by  the  greater  part  of  those  whom  he  had  so  lately 
roused  and  united  in  the  cause.  On  the  second  of  August, 
he  was  surprised  by  Captain  Church,  a  man  who,  if  his  sphere 
of  action  had  equalled  his  intrepidity  and  skill,  would  have 
possessed  a  name  in  the  world  as  distinguished  as  that  of  any 
of  Napoleon's  generals.  One  hundred  and  thirty  of  Philip's 
men  were  slain  ;  his  wife  and  his  son  made  prisoners.  He  him- 
self escaped.  Some  of  the  Indian  prisoners  said  to  Church, 
u  You  have  now  made  Philip  ready  to  die,  for  you  have  made 
nim  as  poor  and  as  miserable  as  he  used  to  make  the  English. 
You  have  now  killed  or  taken  all  his  relations,  and  this  bout 
has  almost  broken  his  heart." 

He  makes  one  more  plunge  into  the  swamps.  An  Indian, 
whose  brother  Philip  had  killed  for  proposing  peace,  discov- 
ered to  Church  the  place  of  his  concealment.  This  intrepid 
officer,  with  a  few  brave  volunteers,  is  instantly  at  the  spot. 
The  swamp  is  invested  under  cover  of  darkness,  and  an 
Englishman  and  an  Indian  planted  behind  every  tree,  at  the 
outlet.  At  break  of  day  the  attack  commences.  The  ill- 
starred  chieftain,  who,  hunted  to  his  last  retreat,  had  dropped 
asleep,  started  from  a  troubled  dream,  seized  his  gun,  and, 
half  naked,  ran  directly  towards  a  tree,  behind  \v  hich  were 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  659 

posted  an  Englishman  and  the  very  Indian  whose  brother  he 
had  killed.  The  Englishman's  gun  missed  fire  ;  the  Indian 
fires,  and  shoots  the  fallen  chief  through  the  heart.  "  He 
fell  upon  his  face  in  the  mud  and  water,  with  his  gun 
beneath  him." 

Such  was  the  fate  of  Philip,  which  was  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  a  termination  of  the  war  in  every  quarter,  except 
the  eastern  frontier.  It  proved  highly  disastrous  to  the  im- 
mediate followers  of  Philip.  Happy  if  the  kindred  tribes 
had  learned  wisdom  from  the  fatal  lesson !  Thus  fell  King 
Philip!  ,The  ground  on  which  we  stand  is  wet  with  the 
blood  which  flowed  beneath  the  tomahawk  of  his  young 
men ;  and  the  darkness  of  night  in  these  peaceful  vales  was 
often  lighted  up,  in  days  of  yore,  by  the  flames  of  burning 
villages,  kindled  by  his  ruthless  warriors.  But  that  blood 
has  sunk,  not  forgotten,  but  forgiven,  into  the  ground.  Havoc 
and  dismay  no  longer  stalk  through  these  happy  meadows ; 
and  as  we  meet  to-day  to  perform  the  simple  and  affecting 
rites  of  commemoration  over  the  grave  of  the  gallant  victims 
of  the  struggle,  let  us  drop  a  compassionate  tear  also  for  these 
the  benighted  children  of  the  forest, — the  orphans  of  Provi- 
dence,—  whose  cruelties  have  long  since  been  expiated  by 
their  fate.  It  could  not  be  expected  of  them  to  enter  into 
the  high  counsels  of  Heaven.  It  was  not  for  them  —  dark, 
and  uninstructed  even  in  the  wisdom  of  man  —  to  compre- 
hend the  great  design  of  Providence,  of  which  their  wilder- 
ness was  the  appointed  theatre.  It  may  well  have  exceeded 
their  sagacity,  as  it  baffles  ours,  that  this  benign  work  should 
so  often  have  moved  forward  through  pathways  dripping 
with  blood.  Yes !  the  savage  fought  a  relentless  war ;  but 
he  fought  for  his  native  land ;  for  the  mound  that  covered 
the  bones  of  his  parents ;  he  fought  for  his  squaw  and  pap- 
poose,  —  no,  I  will  not  defraud  them  of  the  sacred  names 
which  our  hearts  understand,  —  he  fought  for  his  wife  and 
children.  He  would  have  been,  not  a  savage,  he  would 
have  been  a  thing,  for  which  language  has  no  name,  for 
which  neither  human  nor  brute  existence  has  a  parallel,  if 


660  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

he  had  not  fought  for  them.  Why,  the  very  wildcat,  the 
wolf,  will  spring  at  the  throat  of  the  hunter,  that  enters  his 
deri ;  the  bear,  the  catamount,  will  fight  for  his  hollow  tree. 
The  Indian  was  a  man,  a  degraded,  ignorant  savage,  but  a 
human  creature ;  ay,  and  he  had  the  feelings  of  a  man. 
President  Mather,  in  relating  the  encounter  of  the  first  of 
August,  1676,  the  last  but  one  of  the  war,  says,  "  Philip 
hardly  escaped  with  his  life  also.  He  had  fled  and  left  his 
%>eage  behind  him ;  also  his  squaw  and  his  son  were  taken 
captive,  and  are  now  prisoners  at  Plymouth.  Thus  hath  God 
brought  that  grand  enemy  into  great  misery,  before  he  quite 
destroy  him.  It  must  needs  be  bitter  as  death  to  him  to 
lose  his  wife  and  only  son,  (for  the  Indians  are  marvel- 
lous fond  and  affectionate  towards  their  children,)  besides 
other  relations,  and  almost  all  his  subjects,  and  country 
also." 

And  what  was  the  fate  of  Philip's  wife  and  his  son  ?  This 
is  a  tale  for  husbands  and  wives,  for  parents  and  children. 
Young  men  and  women,  you  cannot  understand  it.  What 
was  the  fate  of  Philip's  wife  and  child  ?  She  is  a  woman, 
he  is  a  lad.  They  did  not  surely  hang  them.  No,  that 
would  have  been  mercy.  The  boy  is  the  grandson,  his 
mother  the  daughter-in-law,  of  good  old  Massasoit,  the  first 
and  the  best  friend  the  English  ever  had  in  New  England. 
Perhaps  —  perhaps,  now  Philip  is  slain  and  his  warriors  scat- 
tered to  the  four  winds  —  they  will  allow  his  wife  and  son 
to  go  back  —  the  widow  and  the  orphan  —  to  finish  their 
days  and  sorrows  in  their  native  wilderness.  They  were 
sold  into  slavery,  West  Indian  slavery  !  an  Indian  princess 
and  her  child  sold  from  the  cool  breezes  of  Mount  Hope, 
from  the  wild  freedom  of  a  New  England  forest,  to  gasp 
under  the  lash  beneath  the  blazing  sun  of  the  tropics !  * 
"  Bitter  as  death  ; "  ay,  bitter  as  hell !  Is  there  any  thing, 
—  I  do  not  say  in  the  range  of  humanity,  —  is  there  any 
thing  animated  that  would  not  struggle  against  this?  Is 

*  Morton's  New  England  Memorial,  Judge  Davis's  edition,  p.  353,  &c. 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  661 

there  —  I  do  not  say  a  man  —  who  has  ever  looked  in  the 
face  of  his  sleeping  child ;  a  woman 


•"that  has  given  suck,  and  knows 


How  tender  'tis  to  love  the  babe  that  milks  her;" 

is  there  a  dumb  beast,  a  brute  creature,  a  thing  of  earth  or 
of  air,  the  lowest  in  creation,  so  it  be  not  wholly  devoid  of 
that  mysterious  instinct  which  binds  the  generations  of  beings 
together,  —  that  will  not  use  the  arms,  which  nature  has  given 
it,  if  you  molest  the  spot  where  its  fledglings  nestle,  where 
its  cubs  are  crying  for  their  meat  ? 

Then  think  of  the  country  for  which  the  Indians  fought ! 
Who  can  blame  them  ?  As  Philip  looked  down  from  his  seat 
on  Mount  Hope,  that  glorious  eminence,  that 

"  throne  of  royal  state,  which  far 

Outshone  the  wealth  of  Ormus  and  of  Ind, 

Or  where  the  gorgeous  east,  with  richest  hand, 

Showers  on  her  kings  barbaric  pearl  and  gold,"  — 

as  he  looked  down  and  beheld  the  lovely  scene  which  spread 
beneath,  at  a  summer  sunset,  the  distant  hill-tops  glittering  as 
with  fire,  the  slanting  beams  streaming  along  the  waters, 
the  broad  plains,  the  island  groups,  the  majestic  forest,  — 
could  he  be  blamed  if  his  heart  burned  within  him  as  he 
beheld  it  all  passing,  by  no  tardy  process,  from  beneath  his 
control  into  the  hands  of  the  stranger  ?  As  the  river  chief- 
tains—  the  lords  of  the  waterfalls  and  the  mountains  — 
ranged  this  lovely  valley,  can  it  be  wondered  at  if  they 
beheld  with  bitterness  the  forest  disappearing  beneath  the 
settler's  axe  ?  the  fishing  place  disturbed  by  his  saw-mills  ? 
Can  we  not  fancy  the  feelings  with  which  some  strong- 
minded  savage,  the  chief  of  the  Pocomtuck  Indians,  who 
should  have  ascended  the  summit  of  the  Sugar-loaf  Mountain, 
(rising  as  it  does  before  us,  at  this  moment,  in  all  its  loveli- 
ness and  grandeur,)  in  company  with  a  friendly  settler,  con- 
templating the  progress  already  made  by  the  white  man,  and 
marking  the  gigantic  strides  with  which  he  was  advancing 
into  the  wilderness,  should  fold  his  arms  and  say,  "  White 


662  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK. 

man,  there  is  eternal  war  between  me  and  thee  !  I  quit  not 
the  land  of  my  fathers  but  with  my  life.  In  those  woods, 
where  I  bent  my  youthful  bow.  I  will  still  hunt  the  deer  ; 
over  yonder  waters  I  will  still  glide  unrestrained  in  my  bark 
canoe.  By  those  dashing  waterfalls  I  will  still  lay  up  my 
winter's  store  of  food ;  on  these  fertile  meadows  I  will  still 
plant  my  corn.  Stranger,  the  land  is  mine  !  I  understand 
not  these  paper  rights.  I  gave  not  my  consent  when,  as  thou 
sayest,  these  broad  regions  were  purchased  for  a  few  bawbles 
of  my  fathers.  They  could  sell  what  was  theirs ;  they  could 
sell  no  more.  How  could  my  father  sell  that  which  the 
Great  Spirit  sent  me  into  the  world  to  live  upon?  They 
knew  not  what  they  did.  The  stranger  came,  a  timid  sup- 
pliant, few  and  feeble,  and  asked  to  lie  down  on  the  red 
man's  bear-skin,  and  warm  himself  at  the  red  man's  fire,  and 
have  a  little  piece  of  land  to  raise  corn  for  his  women  and 
children ;  and  now  he  is  become  strong,  and  mighty,  and 
bold,  and  spreads  out  his  parchment  over  the  whole,  and  says, 
it  is  mine.  Stranger!  there  is  not  room  for  us  both.  The 
Great  Spirit  has  not  made  us  to  live  together.  There  is  poi- 
son in  the  white  man's  cup;  the  white  man's  dog  barks  at 
the  red  man's  heels.  If  I  should  leave  the  land  of  my 
fathers,  whither  shall  I  fly?  Shall  I  go  to  the  south,  and 
dwell  among  the  graves  of  the  Pequots  ?  Shall  I  wander  to 
the  west,  the  fierce  Mohawk  —  the  man-eater  —  is  my  foe. 
Shall  I  fly  to  the  east,  the  great  water  is  before  me.  No, 
stranger ;  here  I  have  lived,  and  here  will  I  die ;  and  if  here 
thou  abidest,  there  is  eternal  war  between  me  and  thee. 
Thou  hast  taught  me  thy  arts  of  destruction ;  for  that  alone 
1  thank  thee  ;  and  now  take  heed  to  thy  steps,  —  the  red  man 
is  thy  foe.  When  thou  goest  forth  by  day,  my  bullet  shall 
whistle  by  thee ;  when  thou  liest  down  at  night,  my  knife  is 
at  thy  throat.  The  noonday  sun  shall  not  discover  thy 
enemy,  and  the  darkness  of  midnight  shall  not  protect  thy 
rest.  Thou  shalt  plant  in  terror,  and  I  will  reap  in  blood ; 
thou  shalt  sow  the  earth  with  corn,  and  I  will  strew  it  with 
ashes ;  thou  shalt  go  forth  with  the  sickle,  and  I  will  follow 
after  with  the  scalping-knife ;  thou  shalt  build,  and  I  will 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK.       663 

burn,  till  the  white  man  or  the  Indian  shall  cease  from  the 
land.  Go  thy  way  for  this  time  in  safety ;  but  remember, 
stranger,  there  is  eternal  war  between  me  and  thee  !  " 

'Such  were  the  feelings  which  influenced  the  native  tribes 
at  the  period  of  King  Philip's  war.  But  let  not  our  generous 
sympathies  with  them  betray  us  into  injustice  towards  our 
fathers.  The  right  by  which  the  Pilgrims  settled  down  upon 
the  soil  was  better  than  that  by  which  a  great  part  of  the 
native  tribes  (as  far  as  we  know)  laid  claim  to  the  possession 
of  it.  The  tribes  along  the  coast  were  originally,  and  at  no 
remote  period,  conquerors.  The  fathers  of  Massachusetts 
and  Plymouth,  of  Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut,  purchased 
the  land  of  those  who  claimed  it,  and  often  paid  for  it  more 
than  once.  They  purchased  it  for  a  consideration  trifling  to 
the  European,  but  valuable  to  the  Indian.  An  iron  hatchet, 
or  a  kettle,  or  a  piece  of  woollen  cloth,  was  worth  a  square 
mile  of  unproductive  forest.  There  is  no  overreaching  in 
giving  but  little  for  that  which,  in  the  hands  of  the  original 
proprietors,  is  worth  nothing.  Then,  as  to  the  conduct  of 
the  settlers  towards  the  savages,  pains,  as  wearied  as  unsuc- 
cessful, were  taken  to  instruct  them  in  the  arts  of  civilized 
life  and  Christianity.  Since  the  death  of  the  apostle  Paul,  a 
nobler,  truer,  and  warmer  spirit  than  John  Eliot  never  lived ; 
and,  taking  the  state  of  the  country,  the  narrowness  of  the 
means,  the  rudeness  of  the  age,  into  consideration,  the  history 
of  the  Christian  church  does  not  contain  an  example  of  reso- 
lute, untiring,  successful  labor,  superior  to  that  of  translating 
the  entire  Bible  into  the  language  of  the  native  tribes  of 
Massachusetts ;  a  labor  performed,  not  in  the  flush  of  youth, 
nor  within  the  luxurious  abodes  of  academic  ease,  but  under 
the  constant  burden  of  his  duties  as  a  minister  and  a  preacher, 
and  at  a  time  of  life  when  the  spirits  begin  to  flag.  Eliot 
was  ever  forty-two  years  of  age  when  he  began  to  learn  the 
Indian  tongue  and  preach  to  the  Indian  tribes.  "  It  is  in- 
credible," says  his  biographer,  "  how  much  time,  toil,  and 
hardship  he  underwent  in  the  prosecution  of  his  undertaking  ; 
how  many  weary  days  and  nights  rolled  over  him;  how 
many  tiresome  journeys  he  endured,  and  how  many  terrible 


664       THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK. 

dangers  he  experienced.  If  you  would  know  what  he  felt 
and  what  carried  him  through  all,  take  it  in  his  own  words, 
in  a  letter  to  Mr  Winslow :  '  I  have  not  been  dry,  night  nor 
day,  from  the  third  day  of  the  week  to  the  sixth ;  but  so 
travelled,  ?nd  at  night  pull  off  my  boots,  wring  my  stockings, 
on  with  them  again,  and  so  continue.  But  God  steps  in  and 
helps.' "  These  were  the  circumstances  under  which  the 
herculean  labor  was  performed  of  translating  the  entire  Scrip- 
tures into  a  dialect,  probably  as  remote  from  the  analogy  of 
our  own  tongue  and  as  unmanageable  as  any  spoken  on 
earth. 

That  the  settlers  made  as  near  an  approach  to  the  spirit  ol 
the  gospel,  in  their  dealings  with  the  Indians,  as  the  frailty 
of  our  nature  admits,  under  the  circumstances  in  which  they 
were  placed,  is  clear,  I  think,  from  the  circumstances  already 
stated.  The  commencement  of  the  death-struggle  was  post- 
poned longer  than,  in  the  nature  of  human  affairs,  might  have 
been  expected ;  and  when  it  came  on,  he  must  have  a  sensi- 
bility of  a  morbid  cast,  whose  sympathies  are  enlisted  but  on 
one  side.  I  hope  I  compassionate  the  sufferings  of  the  In- 
dian ;  Heaven  forbid  I  should  be  indifferent  to  the  sufferings 
of  the  fathers.  When  Philip's  war  began,  the  coast  of  New 
England,  to  a  depth  of  eighteen  or  twenty  miles,  and  the 
banks  of  Connecticut  River  to  the  northern  boundary  of  this 
state,  were  the  abode  of  some  of  the  most  interesting  com- 
munities ever  gathered  in  the  world.  I  know  not,  in  human 
history  or  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  a  period  or  a  spot  where 
dearer  hopes  and  richer  prospects  for  the  cause  of  liberty  arid 
truth  were  ever  centred.  It  was  the  second  generation  of 
settlers;  the  wrong  of  the  first  comers  (if  wrong  it  was) 
could  not  be  laid  at  their  door.  They  formed  a  group  of 
Christian  settlements, — a  family  of  youthful  republics;  a 
germ  of  civilization,  enclosing  all  that  now  spreads  around : 
all  that  for  our  children  and  a  late  posterity  shall  rise  on  this 
foundation,  —  as  the  acorn  encloses  the  trunk  and  branches 
of  the  future  oak.  Can  the  philosopher,  the  statesman,  the 
Christian,  be  indifferent  to  their,  fate "  Can  he  contemplate 
with  calmness  the  approach  of  the  catastrophe  that  is  to 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BROOK.  665 

sweep  these  springing  towns,  and  cities,  and  villages,  —  the 
elements  of  future  states,  the  cradles  of  rising  millions,  —  into 
ruin  ?  Can  we,  who  have  received  this  precious  heritage, 
coolly  weigh  in  the  scales  of  a  fastidious  criticism  the  coun- 
sels and  acts  by  which  our  fathers,  in  the  convulsive  struggle 
for  life,  waged  the  war  of  extermination  that  burst  forth 
around  them?  That  war  was  brief;  but  its  havoc  and  its 
terrors,  worse  than  death,  no  tongue  can  describe.  Six  hun- 
dred of  the  inhabitants,  the  greatest  part  of  whom  were  the 
very  flower  of  the  country,  fell  in  battle,  or  were  murdered, 
oftentimes  with  circumstances  of  the  most  revolting  cruelty. 
This  is  the  number  officially  reported  at  the  time  as  falling. 
We  may  well  suppose  that  half  as  many  more  fell  victims  in 
the  progress  of  the  war.  It  was  a  loss  of  her  children  to  New 
England,  not  inferior  to  twenty  thousand  at  the  present  day. 
What  havoc  for  a  single  year !  Twelve  towns  in  Massachu- 
setts, Plymouth,  and  Rhode  Island,  were  utterly  destroyed  ; 
and  many  more  were  greatly  injured.  Six  hundred  buildings, 
mostly  dwelling-houses,  are  known  to  have  been  burned  ;  and, 
according  to  Dr  Trumbull's  calculation,  one  man  in  eleven 
of  the  arms-bearing  population  was  killed,  and  one  house  in 
eleven  laid  in  ashes. 

Then  contemplate  the  details  of  Indian  warfare ;  they  are 
almost  too  much  for  the  heart  of  man  to  bear,  even  as  a  tale 
that  'is  told:  what  must  they  not  have  been  to  those  who 
were  daily  and  nightly  exposed  to  them  !  It  is  almost  enough 
to  make  one  faint  to  read  the  simple  narrative  of  Mrs  Row- 
landson,  the  wife  of  the  minister  at  Lancaster.  It  was  mid- 
winter, about  five  months  after  the  catastrophe  of  Bloody 
Brook, — her  husband  was  absent  in  Boston,  soliciting  the 
means  of  defence,  —  when  her  dwelling-house,  which  had 
been  fortified  as  a  garrison,  was  assaulted  by  several  hundred 
Indians.  The  house  is  soon  set  on  fire,  to  compel  the 
wretched  inmates  to  flee ;  and  yet  the  bullets,  pouring  in 
upon  them  like  hail,  threaten  instant  death  if  they  come  out. 
Driven  at  last  by  the  flames,  they  venture  out,  men,  women, 
and  children.  Many  instantly  fall,  under  the  death-shower. 
Mrs  Rowlandson,  with  a  child  of  six  years  old  in  her  arms. 
VOL.  i.  84 


666      THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK. 

is  shot  in  the  side  by  a  bullet,  which  has  first  passed  through 
her  child's  body  ;  her  other  children  are  torn  from  her.  She 
is  compelled  to  join  the  flight  of  the  savages  into  the  wilder- 
ness, scantily  clad,  unprotected  against  the  wintry  winds  and 
the  night  frosts,  her  mortally  wounded  child  in  her  arms,  per- 
petually moaning,  Mother,  I  shall  die,  I  shall  die;  passing  a 
night  in  the  month  of  February  on  the  snow,  with  her  dying 
child  in  her  arms,  parched  with  fever,  crying  for  water, 
which  no  one  would  bring  it ;  without  food  for  herself,  from 
Wednesday  night  till  Saturday  night,  till  the  child  died. 
"  1  cannot  but  take  notice,"  says  the  heart-broken  mother, 
"  how,  at  another  time,  I  could  not  bear  to  be  in  a  room  with 
a  dead  person ;  but  now  the  case  is  changed.  I  must  and 
could  lie  down  with  my  dead  babe  all  the  night  after.  In 
the  morning,  when  they  understood  that  my  child  was  dead, 
they  sent  me  home  to  my  master's  wigwam.  I  went  to  take 
up  my  dead  chrtld  in  my  arms,  to  carry  it,  but  they  bid  me 
let  it  alone.  There  was  no  resisting,  but  go  I  must,  and 
leave  it."  There  are  other  horrors  in  that  narrative  which  I 
dare  not  repeat.  The  cruel  captivity  of  Mr  Williams,  the 
minister  of  Deerfield,  is  familiar  to  you  all.  It  makes  the 
flesh  creep  to  read  it.  It  was  not  till  the  year  1759,  till 
Quebec  fell,  that  the  settlements  on  Connecticut  River  were 
safe  from  the  incursions  of  the  savage  foe.  There  are  men, 
I  presume,  living  in  Deerfield,  who  remember  the  time  when 
it  was  not  safe  from  their  incursions. 

No,  fellow-citizens,  let  us  not,  in  our  commiseration  of  the 
fate  of  the  native  tribes,  be  insensible  to  the  sufferings,  or 
unjust  to  the  memory,  of  our  fathers.  Their  claims  to  our 
reverence,  as  patriots  and  men,  must  not  be  disparaged  nor 
qualified.  In  this  day  of  abundance  and  prosperity,  while 
we  are  reaping  the  fruits  of  their  labors  and  sufferings,  it  is 
easy  to  point  out  their  errors,  and  rebuke  their  faults.  But 
are  we  sure  that  the  great  work  which  was  given  them  to 
do,  and  which  they  did,  could  be  performed  by  different  men, 
and  in  a  different  way  ?  I  speak  not  tauntingly,  but  in  sober 
earnest,  when  I  say,  that  it  is  one  thing,  in  an  age  like  this,  of 
peace  and  prosperity,  —  in  an  age  of  high  refinement,  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BLOODY  BROOK.       667 

enlightened  public  sentiment,  when  the  alarms  of  a  savage 
frontier  are  no  longer  felt,  the  hardships  of  an  infant  settle- 
ment forgotten,  the  austerities  of  a  struggling  sect  have 
passed  away,  and  the  dreary  delusions  of  a  benighted  age 
are  exploded,  —  calmly,  from  our  happy  firesides,  to  theorize 
on  the  means  by  which  the  settlement  of  the  country  could 
have  been  effected ;  and  a  very  different  thing,  in  times  of 
persecution  and  terror,  for  men,  pursued  by  the  vengeance  of 
an  incensed  hierarchy,  thrown  upon  a  dreary  and  savage 
coast,  beset  not  merely  by  the  savage  tribes  of  the  wilder- 
ness, but,  as  they  believed,  by  the  legions  of  darkness,  to 
go  forth  into  the  forest,  and  encounter  its  hardships.  We 
revolt  at  some  of  the  features  of  the  method  in  which  the 
war  was  carried  on,  by  the  Moseleys  and  Churches,  and  other 
stern  partisans  of  the  day  ;  but  they  were  made  of  those 
elements  which  seem  demanded  in  the  composition  of  a  suc- 
cessful chieftain,  in  such  a  warfare  ;  and  I  am  not  sure  thai 
men  of  milder  tempers,  or  softer  frames,  would  have  beer, 
adequate  to  the  work  of  a  winter's  campaign,  through  frozer 
swamps,  where  it  was  necessary  to  creep  on  your  face, 
through  the  morass,  till  you  came  within  sight  of  the  enemy, 
and  then,  after  the  first  discharge,  spring  up  and  close  with 
him,  in  the  death-grapple.  In  the  account  of  one  of  his 
conflicts  with  a  savage  on  the  ice,  Church  states,  that  "  the 
Indian  seized  him  fast  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  and  endeav- 
ored, by  twisting,  to  break  his  neck.  But  though  Mi- 
Church's  wounds  had  somewhat  weakened  him,  and  the 
Indian  a  stout  fellow,  yet  he  held  him  in  play,  and  twisted 
the  Indian's  neck  as  well,  and,  taking  the  advantage,  while 
they  hung  by  each  other's  hair,  gave  him  notorious  bunts  in 
the  face,  with  his  head.  But  in  the.  heat  of  the  scuffle,  they 
heard  the  ice  break  with  somebody  coming  apace  to  them. 
Church  concluded  there  was  help  for  one  or  the  other  of 
them,  but  was  doubtful  which  of  them  must  now  receive  the 
fatal  blow.  Anon,  somebody  comes  up,  who  proves  to  be  a 
friendly  Indian.  Without  speaking  a  word,  he  felt  them  out, 
(for  it  was  so  dark  he  could  not  distinguish  them  by  sight, 
but  one  was  clothed,  and  the  other  naked.)  and  feeling  where 


668  THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOODY    BUOOK. 

Mr  Church's  hands  were  fastened  in  the  Indian's  hair,  with 
one  blow  settled  his  hatchet  in  between  them,  and  thus  ended 
the  strife."  Such  was  the  price  at  which  victory  was  to  be 
bought ;  the  horrors  that  waited  on  defeat  and  captivity  must 
not  here  be  told. 

If  we  turn  our  thoughts  to  the  grand  design  with  which 
America  was  colonized,  and  the  success  with  which,  under 
Providence,  that  design  has  been  crowned,  I  own  I  find  it 
difficult  to  express  myself  in  terms  of  moderation.  When  I 
compare  the  New  England  of  the  present  day  with  the  New 
England  of  our  fathers,  a  century  and  a  half  ago ;  the  New 
England  on  which  this  morning's  sun  rose,  with  that  of  the 
day  we  commemorate  ;  when  I  consider  this  abundance  and 
prosperity,  these  fertile  fields,  these  villages,  crowded  with  a 
population  instinct  with  activity,  hope,  and  enjoyment ;  when 
I  look  at  the  hills,  cultivated,  or  covered  with  flocks,  to  their 
summits,  and  only  so  much  of  the  forest  remaining  as  minis- 
ters to  the  convenience  and  use  of  man  ;  when  I  see  the 
roads,  the  bridges,  the  canals,  the  railways,  which  spread 
their  busy  network  over  the  face  of  the  country,  quickening 
into  intensity  the  exchanges  of  business,  and  the  intercourse 
of  men;  when  I  see  the  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious 
growth  of  the  community,  its  establishments,  its  institutions, 
its  social  action,  and  reflect  that  all  this  life,  enjoyment,  and 
plenty  are  placed  under  the  invisible  protection  of  the  public 
peace  ;  when  I  consider,  further,  that  what  we  see,  and  hear, 
and  feel,  and  touch,  of  all  these  blessings,  is  perhaps  the 
smallest  part  of  them ;  that,  by  the  force  of  our  example,  by 
the  blessed  sympathy  of  light  and  truth,  the  glad  tidings  of 
political,  of  moral,  and  religious  revival  are  destined  to  spread 
to  distant  regions,  and  flow  down  to  the  remotest  generations, 
out  of  the  living  fountain  which  has  been  opened  here,  — 
my  heart  melts  within  me  for  grief,  that  they,  the  high- 
souled  and  long-suffering  fathers,  —  they,  the  pioneers  of  the 
mighty  enterprise,  —  they,  the  founders  of  the  glorious  tem- 
ple,—  must  die  before  the  sight  of  all  these  blessings.  O. 
that  we  could  call  them  back,  to  see  the  work  of  their  hands ! 
O.  that  our  poor  strains  of  gratitude  could  penetrate  theii 


THE    BATTLE    OF    BLOOD*     BROOK.  669 

tombs !  O  that  they  could  rise  up  in  the  midst  of  us,  the 
hopeful;  the  valiant,  the  self-devoted,  and  graciously  accept 
these  humbh  offices  of  commemoration!  But  though  they 
tasted  not  the  fruit,  they  shall  not  lose  the  praise  of  their 
sacrifice  and  toils.  I  read  in  your  eyes,  that  they  shall  not 
be  defrauded  of  their  renown.  This  great  assembly  bears 
witness  to  the  emotions  of  a  grateful  posterity.  Yon  simple 
monument  shall  rise  a  renewed  memorial  of  their  names. 
On  this  sacred  spot,  where  they  poured  out  their  life-blood 
in  defence  of  that  heritage  which  has  descended  to  us,  we 
this  day  solemnly  bring  our  tribute  of  gratitude.  Ages  shall 
pass  away  ;  the  stately  tree  which  overshadows  us  shall  wither 
and  fall,  and  we,  who  are  now  gathered  beneath  it,  shall 
mingle  with  the  honored  dust  we  eulogize  ;  but  the  "Flower 
of  Essex  "  shall  bloom  in  undying  remembrance ;  and  with 
every  century,  these  rites  of  commemoration  shall  be  repeat- 
ed, as  the  lapse  of  time  shall  continually  develop,  in  richer 
abundance,  the  fruits  of  what  was  done  and  suffered  by  our 
fathers. 


JN  0  T  E  . 


SEE   PAGE   655. 

I  HAVE  been  favored  with  the  following  list  of  those  who  fell  with  Cap 
tain  Lothrop,  kindly  furnished  me  by  Rev.  Joseph  B.  Felt,  whose  profound 
acquaintance  with  the  antiquities  of  Massachusetts  is  known  to  the  public. 
Mr  Felt  observes,  that  the  names  in  the  list  are  given  by  him  as  spelled  in 
the  original,  which  appears  to  be  from  the  hand  of  an  illiterate  writer. 
The  list  was  copied,  two  or  three  years  ago,  from  a  paper  in  the  secretary 
of  state's  office,  in  Boston. 

List  of  those  slain  at  Bloody  Brook,  18th  September,  (O.  S.,)  1675. 

Capt.  Thomas  Laythrop,  Sergeant  Thomas  Smith,  Samuel  Stevens,  John 
Hobs,  Ipswich;  Daniel  Button,  Salem ;  John  Harriman,  Thomas  Bayley,  Eze- 
kiel  Sawier,  Salem ;  Jacob  Kilborne,  Thomas  Manning,  Ipswich ;  Jacob  Wayn- 
writt,  Ipswich;  Benjamin  Roper,  do.;  John  Bennett,  Manchester;  Thos. 
Mentor,  Caleb  Kimball,  Ipsioich;  Thomas  Hobs,  Ipswich;  Robert  Homes, 
Edward  Traske,  Salem;  Richard  Lambert,  Salem;  Josiah  Dodge,  Beverly; 
Peter  Woodberry,  Beverly;  Joseph  Balch,  Beverly;  Samuel  Whitteridge, 
Ipswich;  William  Dew,  Serg't  Samuel  Stevens,  Samuel  Crumpton,  John 
Plum,  Thomas  Buckley,  Salem ;  George  Ropes,  Sakm ;  Joseph  King,  Thomas 
Alexander,  Francis  Friende,  Abel  Oseph,  John  Litheate,  Samuel  Hudson, 
Adam  Clarke,  Ephraim  Fearah,  Robert  Wilson,  Salem;  Stephen  Welman, 
Salem;  Benjamin  Farnell,  Solomon  Alley,  Lynn;  John  Merrik,  Robert  Hius- 
dall,  Samuel  Hinsdall,  Barnabas  Hinsdall,  John  Hinsdall,  Joseph  Gilbert, 
John  Allin,  Manchester ;  Joshua  Carter,  Manchester ;  John  Barnard,  James 
Tufts,  Salem  ;  Jonathan  Plympton,  Philip  Barsham,  Thomas  Weller,  William 
Smeade,  Zebediah  Williams,  Eliakim  Marshall,  James  Mudge,  George 
Cole, . 

Three  of  Captain  Moseley's  men,  when  he  went  to  relieve  Captain  Loth- 
rop, were  killed :  only  two  of  their  names  are  legible  —  Peter  Barren  and 
John  Gates.  The  same  day  two  were  killed  at  Northampton,  Praiswer 
Turner,  Uzacaboy  Shackspeer. 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 

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